


Little Man

by BRUIN



Series: Lil' Man 'Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AdultBaby!Jensen Ackles, Daddy!Jared Padalecki, Diapers, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Little Ones are adult babies, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers/Soothers, Papa!JDM, Prompt Fill, SPN KINKMEME FILL, Small!Shrunk!BabyJensen, so many tags!, starts off with dubious consent but changes to full consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 117,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2159793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BRUIN/pseuds/BRUIN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>KINKMEME FILL:<br/>'A homeless Jensen lives in a world  where many living on the streets find themselves being captured and sold off and into various institutions - Jensen, however, finds himself in an Adult Baby adoption agency were he bumps into a desperate prospective parents, Jeff and Jared, who don’t agree with the whole non-con aspect of adopting from such an agency until Jensen (in an eager way to escape his current location) pretends he’s okay with being babied and diapered if it means he can escape further. However, Jensen’s plans of escape go away pretty quickly when his trust and love grows in the two older men who manage to give him everything and anything his own biological parents didn’t. '</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Flinching into awareness, Jensen felt disorientation settling in and nausea rising at the stinging chill taking over his body. As his eyes adjusted to the bright, white room, he attempted to sit up, only to fail. Dizzily, he discovered to find himself slipping and sliding in his curiously naked state, his significantly dwarfed frame coated with an aquamarine-colored paste that covered every inch from below his nose to his toes.  
  
Panic building, Jensen vaguely paid attention to the white-clad man prodding him back down against the cool surface he occupied. He felt drunken and confused, his memories involving being a six-foot-one male who wore clothes, not a toddler-sized man slathered in skin-tingly slime… ‘Cause that is what he was right now; he was _small_ , _naked_ and by far the most vulnerable he had experienced in a _long_ time.

And, at the age of twenty-three, Jensen Ackles had experienced his fair share of vulnerability over the years.

Being abandoned by his parents at the tender age of six, living in neglectful foster system until he turned the legal age and found himself living on the streets had only been the main contenders of such circumstances. He had experienced others, of course. Living a life of odd jobs, sleeping rough and rummaging through dumpsters proved a never-ending supply of awkward, close-call moments that made him feel unsafe. Although, as far as Jensen was concerned, the aforementioned span of moments between parental abandonment to living on the streets had been the worst of the worst.

That is, until now.

Now, after being chased down like a dog and knocked out by nameless strangers who rounded up the homeless for extra cash, Jensen found himself in the officially worst situation ever. Now, he had been roused from unconsciousness by the sensation of cold, thick paste being slapped onto his naked body by unusually large, wandering hands. Now, after a moment or two of getting his sluggish brain up to speed, he realized he was doomed.

He had been captured, taken, or – as many said on the streets – ‘snatched’. Jensen had seen and heard stories about those who had been hauled into the government-funded vans and never to be seen again. According to such tales, the dubbed ‘undesirables’ were sold to various companies who would use them for anything from cheap labor at farms to high-class sex services. And _now_ , Jensen noted with a wave of sickness, he was one of those who entered such a system…

Yet what precise niche he had been sold into remained a mystery. His view from the steel-topped table he was currently residing on offered him no clue towards his new lot in life. The narrow room looked clinical, the locked wall cabinets and deep, shiny sinks with attached water nozzles only telling him so much. It was only the fact that his height had been so obviously Modified via expensive drugs hinted that he wouldn’t be used for physical labor. He was too small for that now, too fragile; and that scared Jensen’s drug-addled mind further.

If he wasn’t going to be used for actual work then that opened a whole darker venue of thought: Was he to become a pet? A sexual plaything of some sort? It wasn’t an unheard of result, not when being homeless gave you no rights and the world seemed eager to cater to wealthier people’s needs. Still, such issues didn’t matter right now, not when the flighty, panicky part of his brain zeroed in on the sudden spray of icy water hitting his legs.

Naturally, Jensen yelped at the unexpected sensation, a burst of adrenaline breaking through the drowsiness clinging to him. Squirming, he latched his attention upon the man spraying down his shrunken limbs, the sight of the garish, green-blue gunk that had been smeared onto his body sluicing off his legs and removing his body hair as easily as dirt. Horrified and angry, Jensen was just starting to feel his strength coming back when the bored-looking man called out to an unseen companion.

‘‘Another one?’’ a perky, female voice tutted. ‘‘Somebody’s gotta tell Pellegrino about his new suppliers,’’ she continued. ‘‘This is the fourth wake-up we’ve had mid-prep. They’re clearly using cheaper tranquilizers on the merchandise…’’

A faint grunt from the man was all Jensen heard in reply, the light scratch of a needle against his neck working instantly.

 

* * *

 

Burbank A.B Adoption Center was everything Jeffery Dean Morgan had been expecting.

The exterior of the building itself looked every inch as a small, private hospital with its modern architecture and high glass windows. Even the inside, Jeff noted, held a stifling clinical air; the stark white walls, bright lights and row after row of cribs. The building was oppressive and business-like; a far cry from a place that should’ve housed the gleeful giggles or excitable yammering of the adult babies and tots put up for adoption.

He felt awkward and irritated, not curious and excited, as he trailed hand-in-hand with his husband, Jared Padalecki, behind one of the matrons. The middle-aged woman had given them a tour of the establishment, showing the pair of them the airy room where the universally titled Little Ones (or affectionately nicknamed ‘Littles’) slept as well as the selection of occupied playrooms. She introduced them to passing staff on the way, all the while pointing out prospective babes. It didn’t take long for Jeff to feel both his and Jared’s hope that the Burbank Center wasn’t like other adult baby agencies diminishing by the second.

The place was like many others across the country, it was a place made for making money, not happiness. Jeff had seen some of the nursery workers interacting with the little ones, the workers might’ve smiled, but the furrow in their brows hinted how put-out they were with handling caretaker duties. It was horrible and heart breaking, especially when they – Jared and himself – had jumped through hoops on infantilism internet forums to find themselves a consensual adult baby.

But no, places like Burbank thrived for a reason. People didn’t bother with forums or advertisement when it came to getting a little one, not when they could have a pick of any Little One they wished to call their own. Clearly, some new parents obviously didn’t care that private agencies like Burbank gained their babies by plucking the non-consenting homeless male and females off the streets to gain a profit.

The whole situation was sickening and, perhaps, even more so given the government’s backing by labelling the homeless as ‘undesirables’, the fate of many being treated as sub-human. Rarely anyone would bat an eyelid at another vagrant disappearing off the streets. If anything, most citizens would feel calmer at one less ‘undesirable’ hovering in city’s shadows…if the newspapers Jeff had read were true about recent wave of anti-homeless laws being instated.

Still, the entirety of the terrible situation didn’t end there, not when many adoption centers went a step too far. Even Burbank, Jeff had long realized, had subjected their adult babies and toddlers to _drugs..._ because that is what they had done given the selection of adult babies’ two-to-three-foot-something size.

 _Designer Modifiers_ were drugs, cosmetic, but still drugs...and Burbank had used them by the truckload.

What had become a popular source of altering genetic defects in the 1950’s had morphed and spanned into a set of pills, liquids or injections used in today’s world for physical modifications. Jeff could remember seeing the more ‘exotic’ use of Designer Modifiers back when he lived in New York, be it the form of hookers with feline traits such as cat tails or, in a more common use of the drugs, a once-balding businessman suddenly sprouting luxurious locks of hair in under an hour.  
  
It was truly a fascinating array of drugs designed for certain individual’s own plans and, the majority of the time, was popular in certain social circles. Even some of the more traditional parents of adult babies (those who didn’t use the Adoption Agencies but consensual adult-turned-babies) such as their friends used some Designer Modifiers to adjust their Little’s overall size, finding the smaller stature easier to accommodate. Yet, unlike their friends, their own search for a consensual adult baby had dragged on for too long, almost seven years, and it was only now, in this bout of desperation, that led him here with Jared.

Jeff, in all his forty-six years of age, currently felt like the world’s biggest hypocrite being here and listening to the chirpy, curly-haired woman show them around the establishment. He had felt no joy when being introduced to prospective babies, their small, childish sizes and adult features causing his jaw to tighten and stomach roll unpleasantly. However, as much as he and Jared hated it all, they were desperate to fulfill their dream of having a family. So desperate, in fact, that they had taken the first step into eying up the last place they wanted to be when it came to getting a baby boy or girl of their own.

‘‘...Jeff ?’’

Jared’s soft, enquiring tone instantly caught Jeff’s attention and popped the bubble of irritation growing in his chest. He snorted with fond amusement, his broad, calloused hand squeezing Jared’s larger yet somewhat slender-fingered one. Gods, how he loved the floppy-haired male something wicked. The younger man was so in tune with him that it was times like this that Jeff had to fight the urge to back his lover into the nearest corner and ravish him.

Instead, Jeff managed to settle with a more verbal response of, ‘‘I’m fine, babe.’’

Such reassurance didn’t work though, and Jeff inwardly cursed Jared’s perceptive nature. His husband all but wilted, be it with relief, guilt or realization, as he came to a sudden halt in the corridor their tour guide was directing them down, their connected hands making Jeff stop also. He caught sight of his lover’s disappointment and somewhat conspiring glance towards the oblivious guide trotting towards the reception area before speaking up.

‘‘It’s okay, you know,’’ Jared all but confessed, his voice a rasped hush. He stopped thinking of his and Jeff’s heartbreak and the empty nursery back home which they had poured their heart and soul into in favour of doing the right thing. ‘‘I don’t like it here either, babe. It doesn’t feel right knowing it’s not wanted by both people involved. Maybe...maybe we should just forget – ’’

A crash of doors and raised voices further down the corridor interjected whatever else was to be proposed.


	2. Chapter 2

Planning an escape, Jensen realized, wasn’t easy.

He had lost track of time since being snatched off the streets, it could’ve been anything from two days to two weeks. The passage time wasn’t easy to mark without windows, clocks or, oddly enough, the growth of facial hair. Whatever substance he had been slathered with upon arrival seemed to keep his face and, embarrassingly enough, anything else the paste had been applied to, bare. It also didn’t help that most of his captivity so far had been a blurry mess, his ‘disruptive’ actions resulting in sedation by stony-faced strangers. Being Modified to less-than half his original size might’ve made it easier for the workers to manhandle him into high railed cribs, diapers and footie-outfits, but Jensen wasn’t going to give up easily.

Hell, even now, as chaos exploded around him and his plan of escape was shaky at best, Jensen made a run for it.

Biting one of the male worker’s hands had been his smartest act of disruption so far, especially when the man thought he had been sleeping while transferring him into another room. The only problem with his actions revolved around two issues: he didn’t know where the building’s exit was and, most of all, his current size. If he had been his six-foot-plus self, Jensen knew he could’ve outran the man yelling for assistance. However, attempting to outrun others when one average-sized, un-Modified adult’s step equalled three of your tiny own was a hindrance…and that was before Jensen discovered the difficulty of running in unfamiliar clothing.

The diaper was thick and foreign, the warm bulk of it splaying his legs further apart and causing him to waddle ever so slightly in his sprint down the corridor. Even the white sleeper, babyishly dotted with blue and grey elephants, didn’t help due to the built-in footies lacking grip upon the soles. Therefore, it was a shock to Jensen that he had managed to get as far as he did when a set of hands eventually snagged a hold of him.

Instantly, he felt his body lock up, his burst of adrenaline stalled as dread made his stomach clench. It was becoming a common reaction to the building routine: acting up, getting jabbed with a sedative, and finding himself back at square one. Yet, after several panicky beats, Jensen found his expected outcome crumbling apart. The light sting of a needle that usually followed recapture was as absent as the pinching grip of the hands plucking him up. All which he had experienced and expected shrivelled away, leaving him silently baffled by the change – at least until he was repositioned.

Only then, with a strong forearm slipping under his padded bottom and a huge, warm palm settling on his back, did Jensen come face-to-face with his new captor. His first impression was _big_. Yet, since his loss of height, that seemed to apply to everyone and anything. Regardless, the surprisingly gentle male seemed even bigger, practically ginormous, and Jensen found himself reeling at it all.

‘‘Well, hello,’’ the Sasquatch said, sounding pleasantly surprised.

Jensen could only blink, a croaking noise escaping his throat as his mind began working overtime. Sasquatch wasn’t producing a needle or pinning Jensen’s body to him; if anything, the man was all smiles and surprised, fox-like hazel eyes. It took a few seconds to process, but a quick peek at his captor’s ugly, pink-floral shirt made _hope_ bloom in his chest.

This guy, this Sasquatch, wasn’t a worker.

Almost everyone Jensen had encountered so far wore off-white tabards over matching uniform, except this guy. The man had to be a visitor or – or a _potential buyer?_ Jensen didn’t care to the details, not when his source of freedom was directly before him in the form of a giant with floppy brown hair. He couldn’t care less of the consequences, only the result of getting out and now. There was no time to think up a plan further than what his mind had just formed, the fast approach of others ringing in his ears.

Without a second thought, Jensen flung his arms around Sasquatch’s neck and –

‘‘Jared, what…?’’ a new voice, deeper yet just as surprised, entered the equation.  
  
The speaker cut-off Jensen’s plea before he even began, leaving him to momentarily stall. He didn’t even have to turn his head to see who interrupted him, his eyes already staring into a set of warm brown. He tensed up, on edge that he hadn’t spotted Sasquatch’s slightly smaller, albeit older and broader shouldered, company. Thankfully, the salt-and-pepper haired stranger was also lacking a white-clad outfit and, instead, stood in a navy, V-neck sweater.

‘‘Get me outta here,’’ Jensen blurted out with a stuttering heart. He could feel Sasquatch – Jared? – shift him, undoubtedly trying to ease the death grip Jensen had around his neck. The man tugged lightly, once, twice, before giving up to sympathetically pat his back and awkwardly utter,

‘‘Um, listen, buddy, Jeff and I…’’

But Jensen didn’t let Jared finish as he began to furiously whisper, ‘‘I’ll – I’ll be good. I’ll be your –’’ he swallowed thickly, realizing what people came here for, ‘‘ – I’ll be your baby. Ju..just don’t leave me here, please!’’

A shocked, intake of breath from both males was the only response Jensen gained before madness unravelled in the corridor.

It started with one female, her voice flustered as she began apologizing profusely to ‘Mr. and Mr. Padalecki-Morgan’. She proceeded to flutter about as the worker Jensen had bitten reappeared, flanked by two more. They all looked so furious, so angry, and began shouting. All Jensen could do was cling to the pink shirt, hope his previous plea had been taken seriously and the male duo, Jeff and Jared, wouldn’t leave him to the wolves.

Given the way Jared was still holding him closely and stepping away from one of the worker wielding a sedative, Jensen found it safe to assume the best. Even Jeff, as gruff as he looked, began talking in an authoritative, albeit placating, tone. He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he felt it – the sharp scratch of a needle getting him right in the jugular.

* * *

 

‘‘Honestly, there was no need to sedate him!’’

Mark Pellegrino sat behind his desk, his blue eyes narrowed and hands steepled in front of his downturned mouth. He only half-listened to the ending tirade from his furious, to-be-customer. His ears were already ringing from the reported incident from his workers before he focused on his prospective clients, Jeffery Morgan and Jared Padalecki. From what he had garnered, the gay couple hadn’t had the smoothest of visits to his Adult Baby Adoption Center.

A new Little One had escaped and caused quite the ruckus in the corridors. At first, Mark thought the couple seated opposite him were looking for a monetary discount as a form of compensation from having their visit ruined by a wayward tot and incapable staff member. Alas, such thoughts dissolved the moment the younger man, Jared, rattled off into a rant that could rival a mother bear and, inwardly, Mark began to smirk.

It should’ve been a clue the moment he spotted Jared unwilling to place the Modified baby back with his workers. Instead, the hulking man kept ahold of the unconscious male they sat in Mark’s office, his husband, Jeff, glaring daggers at anyone to object. Still, it was clear now; Mr. and Mr. Padalecki-Morgan weren’t cut from the same cloth as Mark’s usual clients, they were undoubtedly traditionalists who didn’t approve of the non-consensual aspect of A.B Agencies.

Either way, Mark didn’t care what drove such a couple to be here. All which mattered was that he wouldn’t be losing out on money, not when what he was doing was perfectly legal and the Padalecki-Morgan duo weren’t seeking a bargain baby. If anything, Mark began to muse how he could turn the tables in his favour and, maybe, make a profit.

He eyed the couple carefully, the stretch of silence no means comfortable before slipping his attention to the small male occupying Padalecki’s lap. The boy was good looking and young with delicate features and dark blond hair – Mark knew that if this whole fiasco hadn’t happened and the troublemaker, like all new merchandise, got broken-in, trained, then he’d be a high price Little to sell. Sadly, this wasn’t the case and, with a heavy exhale, he began doing damage control.

‘‘I understand your distress,’’ Mark began. ‘‘Many often don’t like to know how their Lil’ one becomes the perfect son or daughter. You see, all our new babies undergo conditioning before being placed up for adoption and this…this incident is the result of an untrained baby getting loose. Gentlemen, I do apologize for your encounter with –’’ he pauses to creak forward in his chair and flip open the thin file upon his desk.

Fingerprint scans and complied files are made of all homeless subjects; it’s policy. Nobody wants a criminal baby. Mark squints down at the file of #0319, his eyes sweeping past the collected background check to zero in on the biting beast’s name.

‘‘ – Jensen,’’ he finishes. He knows full-well what he’s done the moment he says the boy’s name and he smothers a grin. Jeff and Jared are attached to the Jensen already, almost shockingly so. The mention of a name merely seals the deal, he just needs to prod the pair further without getting fed his teeth in the process.

‘‘Don’t you worry, we’ll give you a discount on our available babies for all this unpleasantness,’’ Mark continues with an air of sympathy. ‘‘In fact,’’ he smoothly adds, ‘‘I’ll personally label Jensen as deficient and unable to home, he’s too unruly.’’

The chorus of growled protests that immediately follow is music to Mark Pellegrino’s ears.

* * *

 

‘‘That bastard fucking played us.’’

‘‘I know.’’ Jared agrees, numbly.

‘‘Fifteen thousand dollars,’’ Jeff continues, fuming. ‘‘Cash isn’t the issue but we’ve just lined that monster’s pockets, continuing the cycle.’’

Jared doesn’t have to glance sideways to see Jeff shake his head, he can practically _feel_ his husband’s tense shoulders and tightened grip upon the steering wheel. He winces, his eyes trained on droplets of rain hitting the passenger window as Jeff continues to drive. As the other man’s words sink in, Jared can’t believe what they’ve done: they had bought an adult baby, a Little One of their own, they had just bought Jensen.

It goes against everything they, and their close-knit friends, believe in. He doesn’t dare think of what Misha and the others will say, not now. Still, Jared reasons, desperation might’ve had him and Jeff checking out Burbank A.B Adoption Center, but it didn’t have them going against their morals. They had been ready to leave the premises, utterly disgusted at their moment of weakness at simply _looking_ , when mayhem unfolded and Jared found himself sucked into the adorable sight of Jensen.

Tiny and tottering with expressive green eyes and a scalp of blond hair that wisped around his ears…it had been instinct that had Jared plucking the Modified adult baby up. Instinct, longing and concern. Jensen had looked so terrified and, naturally, Jared wanted to fix that. He didn’t expect to find himself with a heavy heart and protective urge the moment Jensen began begging to be taken away.

‘‘We couldn’t just leave him there,’’ Jared finds himself uttering out loud.

He isn’t even aware that he’s spoken, his eyes shifting down to the dwarfed, unconscious form of Jensen occupying his lap. The kid – for the male is still a kid, has to be, given his young features – is dead to the world and swaddled in Jeff’s worn, brown-leather jacket. Idly, Jared wonders how old Jensen really is, his attention slipping to the ‘complimentary background file’ tucked by his feet on the car floor. Yet, just as curiosity begins to nibble at him, he feels the familiar weight of his husband’s hand landing upon his knee.

‘‘I...’’ Jeff’s floundering, sounding just as lost as Jared feels. ‘‘Damn it. Of course we couldn’t leave him there. It’s just – just messed up.’’

A bitter scoff leaves Jared’s throat. ‘‘Tell me about it.’’

‘‘I’m sorry, love.’’

‘‘Don’t be, I just thought…’’ Jared trails off with a sigh. He tightens the arm curled around Jensen’s body, his unoccupied hand brushing a thumb across Jeff’s knuckles. ‘‘I always thought that when we got a little one of our own we’d be happy, not guilty and frustrated.’’

‘‘Jared…Jay, listen – ’’

‘‘It’s fine, really,’’ he interjected, listless. ‘‘Let’s just get home and figure out what we can do for Jensen.’’

A tense pause follows after that, the only sounds being the sound of the wheels on road and pitter-patter of rain hitting the windows. Jeff returns his hand to the wheel as Jared works his jaw, torn between so many emotions. He fiddles with Jensen’s tiny, limp hand, the pads of his fingers exploring the boy’s clammy palm and delicate bones.

‘‘Maybe…maybe we can strike a bargain, get Jensen’s consent?’’ Jeff offers, silence broken.

‘‘Huh?’’ Jared straightened a little in his seat, his gaze darting towards the older man. Jeff looks calmer now, his eyes no longer narrowed at the stretch of road in front of them. If anything, his husband looks… _hopeful._

‘‘Think about it,’’ Jeff carries on, ‘‘the kid’s an abducted and Modified homeless, he could do with some love. Maybe we can ask Jensen to give us a shot? Be our baby for a few months to see what it’s like?’’

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Jared’s voice wavers when he asks, ‘‘And if he says no?’’

‘‘We’ll just…let him go, babe.’’

Jared can only nod, he wholly agrees despite the bitter taste of disappointment.

‘‘But,’’ Jeff brightly adds, ‘‘I think he’ll say yes. We could offer to pay for a Mod-reversal if he gives it ago, I’m sure if he wants out he’d prefer to be back to his former height. We’ll just have to, you know, persuade him if he says yes.’’

A laugh leaves Jared at that. It’s loud and genuine and Jensen jostles a little from the movement. If the youngest male wasn’t sedated, he’s certain his boisterous bark would’ve woken the boy up. Luckily enough, Jensen sleeps on as a spark of joy ignites in Jared’s chest over his husband’s idea.

‘‘By persuade you mean spoil him, right?’’ Jared teases.

It earns him a cheeky wink laced with Jeff’s usual, infectious confidence.

The ranch-style home is an exterior of mottled-red brick and off-white, wooden panelling. It’s a relatively modest house tucked away between farmland and the outskirts of a neighboring suburb. On a whole, the parcel of land the house resides on is open yet artfully landscaped with everything from rockery to flowerbeds. Even in the drizzly grey dimness this rainy, late-afternoon Jeff finds that, in any light and weather, the home he created with Jared is beautiful.

Jeff wastes no time parking the car as close as possible to the house upon the long, gravel driveway and clambers out. Jared is already out and bumping the door shut with his hip, his arms full of Jensen and ducking under the front porch. It’s only after snagging the thin file Pellegrino handed them that Jeff follows suit. He finds himself smiling upon nearing the front door, taking a great delight in the sight of his husband, ever the natural, cradling Jensen.

Silently, Jeff can only hope his theories regarding Jensen work out. If the boy says no straight off the bat he knows both Jared and himself are going to be crushed. Still, Jeff unlocks the front door and lets Jared in first, the sound of his damp shoes squeaking against the polished hardwood. He’s so busy _wishing, hoping, praying_ about things going their way that he’s in the middle of dropping the file on the hallway table when he realizes that Jared is talking to him.

‘‘ – wet.’’

‘‘What?’’ Jeff asks, baffled.

Jared smiles fondly at him and repeats himself. ‘‘I said, I think Jensen’s wet.’’

‘‘Oh, right,’’ he nods. ‘‘You go ahead into the living room and I’ll grab a towel – ’’

‘‘He’s not wet from the rain, babe.’’

It takes a few seconds for his brain, as scrambled as it is right now, to catch onto Jared’s meaning. Jeff automatically stops in his pursuit of heading down the hall in favor of showing his surprise. Clearly the sedatives running through Jensen’s system have made this happen and, while it’s no problem to change a diaper, the main dilemma at hand lies elsewhere in Jensen’s consent. The idea of leaving their, hopefully, to-be-boy in a soggy diaper until waking feels wrong as Jeff’s mind jumps to the prospect of diaper rash.

‘‘Best change him, he won’t be awake until much later,’’ Jeff decides. Although… ‘‘I don’t think we have anything his size,’’ he adds with a frown.

It’s true, though. Whatever basic supplies they had, like diapers, wouldn’t be suitable for Jensen’s tiny, Modified body. Both himself and Jared had always expected to go the same route as their friends by finding an adult who wanted to be their little before even thinking of using Modifiers to alter their baby’s height. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t scoop a full grown adult up anyway; the pair of them had enough height and muscles to get by. Hell, they had even designed the nursery with an adult-sized Little One in mind.

‘‘I’m pretty sure we’ve got a few diapers from when the boys stayed over,’’ Jared pipes up, confident.

Unable to help himself, Jeff beams. ‘‘Yeah?’’

‘‘Should be in the linen closet.’’

‘‘Okay,’’ he nods, feeling strangely jittery. ‘‘I’ll - I’ll grab ‘em and some wipes, it’ll do until Jensen wakes and…’’

‘‘Makes a decision,’’ Jared all but huffs.

It should sound irritable or petulant, but it’s not. Jeff can hear the underlying despair, and he doesn’t think twice about closing the distance (mindful of Jensen’s form between them) to press a kiss against Jared’s lips. They exchange a series of kisses, pecks, really; the brush of lips and light pressure more about comfort than passion. The action works, though. And the moment Jeff feel’s the tell-tale curve of a smile against his own he relaxes and steps back.

He lingers for a brief moment as Jared steps out of the hall and into the living room before heading in his own direction. On the left, off the main, square body of the hall, there is a T-shaped corridor that contains the sturdy-oak doors to the master bedroom, nursery, guestroom and bathroom. Jeff doesn’t have far to go to grab the aforementioned items, the linen closet is located in the guest bedroom, nearest to the hall and opposite the bathroom. It does, however, take some rummaging through spare toilet paper and towels before he finds the near-empty pack of diapers from the time Misha and Vicki's little ones stayed over.

By the time Jeff heads back to the hall and slinks into the living room, he finds Jared upon the couch with Jensen lying close by. Upon further approach he discovers that his husband has already removed the sodden diaper, leaving the tiny male naked save for his arms remaining in the sleeper. Wordlessly, he hands over the diaper and wipes and watches Jared work his magic. The younger male is efficient yet tender despite his huge hands. The sight should be heart-warming or, at the very least, awkward due to Jensen being an unwilling participant so far. Yet, Jeff doesn’t feel either of the two, not when all he can do is stare at the skinny little chest before him. He can’t help but reach out and lightly brush a knuckle against the pale skin and prominent bones as a curse breaks forth,

‘‘Shit. You can see his ribs, Jare.’’

Jared simply nods…and Jeff decides there and then that he’s going to pull out all the stops to get Jensen to stay with them. If not for his husband and himself, but for the kid who clearly hasn’t been able to look after himself.

* * *

 

Upon waking, Jensen feels his breath immediately catch at the back of his throat.

His first thought is that he had dreamed up his recent, failed escape along with his encounter with those two, overly large man. He thinks that back at square one, back at being trapped in a crib at that detested place, until he blinks. Only then does the fog of sedatives and panic clear, his eyes taking in the lack of metal bars and a ceiling that doesn’t fit in the white-filled environment he had been previously placed in.

Instead, Jensen finds himself staring up at a high-beamed ceiling and a set of dimly-lit lights that manages to blend a style that is both rustic yet modern. He’s so wrapped up in the relief that he is, so obviously, no longer in the prison-like environment anymore that he barely notices that he’s not alone. It’s only when the couch shifts beneath him that he takes note hushed voices and light tapping noise.

Jensen is suddenly alert at that, and he begins to subtly look about without moving too much. He finds himself in a living room, tucked up in the softest blanket he has ever felt and upon a dull, grey-blue couch that has to be made of marshmallows. If he wasn’t so hyper-alert at verifying his location and company further, he would’ve continued to enjoy such a rare luxury. Alas, Jensen slips back into focusing, his green gaze catching sight of the main source of noise – a large, flat-screen TV above the fireplace – and, more importantly, the massive man at the other end of the couch.

It’s Sasquatch…or, Jared, if Jensen recalls correctly.

The brown-haired giant is clicking away at the laptop upon his thighs, his impossibly long legs stretched out with his feet upon the solid oak coffee table. Jensen takes a moment to stare before a slight creak garners his attention and has him peeking at another familiar face, Jeff, seated in an oversized recliner. The change of view not only highlights the sight of Jeff idly flicking through a file of sorts, but it also shows the set of patio doors that stretch out like a giant window that shows nothing but inky-blue night sky.

‘‘Hey, there,’’ a low voice cuts through the lull.

Tensing up, Jensen slides his eyes towards the greeting that is, dare he admit it, a _croon_. He automatically assumed such a gentle intonation would be from Jared, but no, its Jeff. The oldest of the male couple is smiling over whatever he had been reading, his chocolate eyes alight with…affection.

Jeff’s comment not only gains Jensen’s attention and, in mere seconds, Jared in joining in. ‘‘Ah, Jensen,’’ the man is smiling as he shuts his laptop. ‘‘Your name is Jensen…right? They didn’t just re-name you or…?’’

By ‘they’ Jensen knows who Jared is referring to. He means the snatchers or the people running the adult baby institution he had been locked up in. Still, there is something odd about the fact Jared knows his name, especially when during his small, drugged stint since he had been caught many of the workers called him a number. Either way, Jensen can only offer a weak nod, his throat and chest feel too tight to speak right now.

He’s free – well, sort of. He’s free from those white-clad workers and prison-like security. Now, in this house with only two males, he had a greater chance of escape. The fact his poor, work-in-progress plan has actually moved forward a step was a little frightening.

‘‘Well, Jensen,’’ Jeff tentatively beings, ‘‘I’m Jeff and this is my husband Jared. We…we just want to talk, really. Maybe offer something. But, first, do you want anything to drink?’’

Jensen whispers out a, _‘‘no’’_ and begins to push himself upright. The movement makes his diaper crinkle and the blanket pool around his waist. He takes a moment to relish in the dryness of his forced-upon undergarment; it had become a common occurrence for his body to do what came naturally when under sedatives. It’s a small victory that Jensen happily takes despite how he’s still dressed in footie-pajamas and the mention of Jeff’s _offer_ has the hair on the back of his neck prickling.

Still, Jensen sits stiffly and decides to listen to them, knowing full-well he can’t trust anyone but himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks for the support guys, i'll keep the updates rolling!

He had said yes; yes to being Jeff and Jared’s ‘baby’, or ‘Little One’.  
  
The pair of them had spoken so honestly, so raw with emotion, that if Jensen was like any normal, red-blooded male he would’ve fell for it. Thankfully, he wasn’t stupid or gullible. He had long ago learnt through a series of cruel life-lessons that people lied and acted to get their own way. So when Jared got teary-eyed and told him about their seven year search for a consensual adult baby had failed – how Jared and Jeff had only been looking, not buying, in Burbank – Jensen looked between the lines. He did the same when Jeff smoothly mentioned the offer of Mod-reversal and money and, _‘‘this is entirely your decision, buddy. If you don’t want this, you’re free to leave right now.’’_

Jensen wanted to scoff at it all – he knew full well he had no decision in this, no matter how honest and kind they seemed. It was better to simply say yes, get it over with and lure the pair into a false sense of security. He’d adjust to his new environment, let the older males settle and, height be damned, find the easiest escape route without getting caught in the process.

It was difficult, though. His insides twisted and churned, a niggle of doubt worming into his system that maybe, just maybe, Jeff and Jared were being honest and not acting. Jensen had to look away from Jared’s eyes when the man cupped the back of his blond head in that overly large paw of his and began sputtering thank you’s. Even Jeff, who seemed a little more reserved, looked weepy with relief as he beamed with gratitude.

Thinking about it all now made Jensen’s chest tight and palms sweaty with guilt.

That being said, all previous talk had happened several hours ago. After listening to Jeff’s little speech and Jared’s gushing he had dozed back off an hour or so later, falling asleep to the sound of the TV and the sight of Jared doing some obvious online shopping. It was shameful to let his guard down so easily (and so soon), but Jensen assumed the stress of dealing with his work-in-progress plan mingled with lingering sedatives made him complacent.

Now, upon waking and thinking, Jensen discovered he had been moved during his sleep. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, irritated at being picked up or awed he slept so deeply. Either way, he was no longer in the grand-looking living room and, instead, appeared to be in a nursery given the bars in front of his eyes. If it wasn’t for the obvious burst of color in the room, he would’ve thought Jeff and Jared had returned him.

But no, this new room is all color and, deep down, he knows he’s not in the clinical, stark location he had been previously trapped in. Color is everywhere in this room, be it in the patchwork blanket of autumnal colors, dark, cherry wood furniture or rich yellow paint that dominates the walls. There is even a swirly tree – painting or decal, he doesn’t know – on the wall nearest to the adult-sized crib he occupies, complete with green leaves, mocha-brown squirrels and blue birds. It’s a theme that expands further about the room in the form of a random tree branch creeping from behind a slim wardrobe.

Jensen is momentarily stunned at the care gone into this place that he finds himself clambering up, his tiny hands latching onto the wooden rail to peer about. Idly, he spots the cream carpet and other, little finishing touches about the room like the glowing, owl-shaped sculpture upon the far dresser by the door. He’s so swept up in his silent exploration that he doesn’t notice the bedroom door opening, his attention solely on the sliver of warm sunlight peeking between the window curtains.

‘‘Somebody’s bright eyed and bushy tailed.’’

The unexpected announcement has Jensen flinching, his head whirling towards the culprit. It’s Jared, clearly. The man is clad in the casual attire of an undershirt and low-hung sweatpants and, if he notices Jensen’s response, he ignores it. Jared is more in favour of stepping into the room with the biggest, goofiest smile Jensen’s ever seen. It leaves Jensen a little lost in how to respond, especially when Jared ducks down to press a brief kiss upon his forehead.

Flushing, Jensen wishes he could control the blush breaking out on his face, but he can’t help it. Nobody has ever…well, maybe his parents did, once-upon-a-time-ago, but nobody had ever really treated him like this. Like he’s some sort of precious treasure. He finds himself floundering at what to do and how to act until he recalls last night’s discussion.

 _‘‘Be yourself,’’_ Jeff had said to him, _‘‘talk as little or as much as you want. Jared and I will be your daddies, and we’ll take care of everything. We only ask that you try with this and learn to trust us.’’_

Jensen settles with ducking his head, his eyes focusing on the sight of his tiny feet covered in footie-pajamas. He’s unsure if he’s going to spiral into a panic attack or throw a fit over his unravelling predicament when he catches sight of Jared clicking the owl statue-turned-night-light off. The room is no longer dim, but dark, until Jared yanks open the curtains that let in both bright light and the view of greenery.

‘‘It’s almost noon, little guy,’’ Jared continues to coo. ‘‘Papa’s made some tasty omelets and I bet you’re hungry, huh?’’

No, Jensen wants to say. No he’s not hungry.

He’s too busy feeling distressed at the expanse of land and trees he can see to feel hungry. Further escape, it seems, might be extremely difficult. Still, Jensen silently hopes that maybe, just maybe, Jared and Jeff have a large garden and he isn’t in the middle of nowhere.

‘‘Jensey,’’ Jared says, playfully light as he nears the crib. It’s a nickname Jensen’s never been called before and he tries to not dwell on how it makes him feel. Instead, he blinks up at Jared and opts to follow Jeff’s advice by saying the first thing that comes to his mind.

‘‘Thirsty.’’

The word comes out a little mangled, his cotton-wooly feeling mouth making his tongue stick and turn it into sounding like _firsty_. Jared’s reaction to his belated reply in one of praise, not awkwardness, and Jensen finds himself being scooped up. He tries to relax into the huge man’s hold, but his body won’t allow it. He needs to piss and its weird and disorientating to find himself feeling so small in the high location in Jared’s arms.

It’s a bit like vertigo, Jensen thinks. The first time Jared plucked him up he had been running on adrenaline but, now, he’s just filled with nervous energy. He feels like he’s a kid again, tucked up on a high tree branch and too scared to climb back down. All Jensen can do is grip onto Jared as the man begins to move out of the nursery, his clammy palms catching against the bare skin of Jared’s shoulders.

Jared just laughs at his clingy action, probably viewing Jensen’s terror of falling as something endearing. Jensen frowns at that, his green eyes narrowing at Jared’s chin while the hulking giant weaves his way through the hallway and into the living room. His mild glare doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and it’s when Jared is stepping through an archway and into the open plan kitchen-diner that Jensen finds himself on the receiving end of an affectionate pat to his diaper-clad bottom.

Naturally, he wriggles from the unwanted action and unintentional pressure to his bladder. It sends Jared into a bout of chuckles, once again, and Jensen decides to glance towards the other occupant in the kitchen, Jeff. The greying male is seated at the huge, oak table and stops mid-rummage through a cardboard box to look both ecstatic at their arrival and soft, at the same time. It’s odd, but Jensen thinks it’s got to be the glasses that makes Jeff look the latter. The black, designer frames are large on his bearded face as he smiles directly at Jensen. Either that, or the fact Jeff is wearing dark sweatpants and a worn, khaki t-shirt.

He can’t really decide; it’s almost as if, overnight, Jeff has shed some heavy weight off his broad shoulders.

Whatever the case Jensen can’t help but stare. Jeff and Jared look so casual and happy today that it’s almost infectious. Almost. He doesn’t even know these guys, not really. They could be mass murderers or something yet, because Jensen said yes, he’s having to fake trust. He shivers a little at the thought only to feel Jared’s hand rub his back.

‘‘I’ll get you something to drink now, baby,’’ Jared soothes. ‘‘Jeff,’’ he looks at the man nursing a coffee, ‘‘did you unpack those bottles?’’

‘‘Unpacked, sterilized and on the dish rack as we speak,’’ Jeff proudly replies.

‘‘Thanks, babe.’’

‘‘And I’ve done the pacifiers, too, Jay.’’

The pair of them sound so giddy and eager, they sound like – like new parents, Jensen realizes. He ignores the pang of _something_ in his chest at such a discovery and tries to focus on something else. Thinking, however, is difficult as Jensen begins to focus on what they’re talking about – bottles and pacifiers – and starts to break out into an embarrassed sweat. In the end, his source of distraction is taken out of his hands when Jared passes him over to Jeff.

‘‘Hey, sunshine,’’ is the greeting he receives upon finding himself perched on Jeff’s thigh.

The older man gives him a light bounce, one arm securely curled around his back while the other rifles through the box on the table. Curious, Jensen tries to see what is in the box only to find the effort is futile: he’s too small. Instead, he scowls and takes the moment to eye the stamps and stickers attached to the delivery box, his heartbeat picking up in speed the moment he skips past ‘priority mail’ and zeroes in on the recipient address.

It’s a small relief to discover that he’s still in the same state he was captured in despite the fact he’s never heard of a town called Bloomingfield before. And that certainly says something, especially when you’ve been tossed between numerous states and foster homes. Still, his relief his short lived and snuffed out when he spots some of the items Jeff is pulling out from the box – diapers, bibs, pink-bottled baby lotion and…a hideous selection of small, cotton outfits that snap together at the crotch-area. It’s all stuff for Littles. It's _Baby stuff_.

Jeff seems to note his attention despite not being able to see the look of horror crossing Jensen’s face.

‘‘All for Jensen,’’ Jeff sing-songs. ‘‘Well,’’ he adds, ‘‘at least until your settled and ready for a shopping trip. Daddy’s smart, isn’t he, sweetheart?’’

No, Jensen thinks, wonderful ‘Daddy’ is a loon, this stuff looks expensive.

‘‘I just ordered some necessities and paid extra for next-day delivery,’’ Jared corrects, his voice laced with laughter and traveling from beyond the kitchen counter.

‘‘I think it’s pretty smart,’’ Jeff murmurs into Jensen’s hair.

It’s a near confession, full of amusement and pride. Jensen tips his head up only to find a whiskery kiss being placed by his eyebrow. Automatically, he wrinkles his nose – what is it with these two guys kissing him so much? It should be creepy or smothering, but it’s not. It’s just baffling.

‘‘Got an omelet waiting for you under the grill,’’ Jeff carries on. ‘‘I’ll serve it up for you after Daddy gives you your bottle, okay?’’

A small hum leaves Jensen at that; he’s never been a huge talker, but he can’t really bring himself to speak in fear of blowing his cover. Either way, even if I did feel talkative he couldn’t now, the smell of food in the air is making his mouth water a little too much. He can smell eggs, onions and sausage. It’s been forever since he had something that wasn’t scrounged leftovers. For the briefest of moments, he finds himself lost in the prospect of food, real food, that he forgets about his reeling mind and ache in his bladder.

Until Jeff rubs his stomach.

That hand is a little smaller but just as large as Jared’s, and it takes up most of Jensen’s torso. It’s disconcerting and more than a little frightening to see the size difference between himself and that hand. While Jeff and Jared might seem like soft-hearted fools, nothing like the workers at Burbank, it isn’t overly reassuring. All it takes is one flick of the wrist and Jensen could find himself seriously injured by the well-muscled men.

It’s a sense of vulnerability that Jensen hadn’t felt since he was very, very small; back when he’d cry into his brother Josh’s shoulder whenever Mom got rough and Dad shouted too much. He hates it. Hates it to the point that his head is starting to ache and his eyes feel scratchy.

God, he’s just a mess.

* * *

 

‘‘Squirmy little fella, aren’t you?’’ Jeff mused.

He could hear Jared heating up some milk behind him and opted to turn Jensen sideways in his lap to see the fidgety kid’s face. Jeff expected to see a frown or blush upon his new son’s features, but no. Jensen, in his humble opinion, looked a little weepy. It was worrying to see those bright, green eyes look a tad glassy and plump lips set in a thin line. He didn’t know what exactly had set off this reaction – maybe the reality of the situation or sight of baby paraphernalia being unpacked?

Its only one reasonable theory that springs to mind. Jeff wasn’t naive enough to think Jensen was wholly on board with being their baby. Both himself and Jared knew Jensen’s ‘yes’ towards their offer had come a little too quickly. Also, they had read the file and looked between the lines of the brief outline of records that labelled Jensen as a foster kid who went into poor employment and, eventually, homelessness. It was clear what the untold story told them, they’d have to be idiots to think Jensen believed their honest offer of letting him go. After all, their boy was a stubborn, untrusting little creature who was probably waiting for a chance to flee regardless of their reassurances of choice.

That being said, Jeff wasn’t going to let Jensen go without any persuasive effort on his part. He and Jared fully planned to spoil and pamper the boy, no matter how limited their time might be until Jensen expressed a clear need to leave. Until then, Jeff decided, he’d try win the little one over with some much needed love and attention.

And, upon thinking of attention, Jeff lightly wiggled a calloused finger under Jensen’s smooth, stubbornly-set chin.

‘‘What’s up, sunshine?’’ he worried. ‘‘You don’t have to be so quiet, you can tell Papa what’s up.’’

Jensen doesn’t deign him with eye contact, his head swivelling downward.

‘‘Probably because he hasn’t peed,’’ Jared chimes in.

‘‘Ah,’’ Jeff smirks with understanding. He drums his fingers against the soft cotton of Jensen’s stomach, gently attempting to coax his little one to go naturally without too much pressure. It’s not healthy to hold back, and the sooner Jensen starts embracing diaper changes, the better. It’s would be the first step into solidifying his role as their Little One.

Still, Jeff lets Jensen wriggle away from the touch and switches his attention to Jared’s approach. His husband plonks down on the nearest wooden chair, a bottle of milk in one hand and a pacifier hooked upon his little finger like a ring. Jeff doesn’t think twice about passing Jensen over, he knows full well this is an experience Jared has always wanted to have for himself. The pair of them are old hands when it comes to the feedings and diaper changes of little ones; they had long ago earned their experience through both babysitting their friend’s adult babies and natural babies via nieces or nephews.

However, there is something vastly different when it comes to doing such tasks with a babe of your own, and Jeff wants nothing more than to fill the empty slot in his husband’s heart. He makes a point of returning to supping his cooling coffee and plucking clothing out the box as Jared gets Jensen settled. Their little one is very shy, it seems, and he thinks it’s best if he doesn’t make it too obvious of watching Jensen during such a moment.

Jensen doesn’t disappoint, though, it only takes Jared two gentle attempts and a coo of support to make him latch onto the bottle’s rubber nipple. Jared keeps up his praise, his voice thick with emotion as he calls the youngest of their trio a ‘good boy’. Jeff continues to look out the corner of his eye, the sounds of Jensen’s snuffled breathing and loud suckling filling him with a singular, confident thought:

Maybe Jensen, on some subconscious level, does want to be taken care of.

It’s a brief, fleetingly hopeful thought, and Jeff finds himself holding a bundle of new baby clothes as he makes his way to stand behind Jared. He couldn’t resist a proper look upon noticing Jensen’s tightly shut eyes and embarrassed flush as he sucks down the warm, honeyed milk. It’s clear the little guy is trying to shut them both out in a bid to quench his thirst and avoid Jared’s open, besotted expression.

A snort escapes Jeff at that.

Well, that and the way Jensen’s quick rush and inexperience with a bottle has milk dribbling out the corner of his mouth, wetting the collar of his sleeper. Naturally, Jeff sweeps a thumb against the pale, trickling stream with his unoccupied hand. The act earns him a chuckle from Jared and a brief glimmer of Jensen’s mossy eyes from beneath thick lashes.

‘‘I should’ve put a bib on our mucky pup,’’ Jared laughs.

‘‘Definitely,’’ he hums back, placing a chaste kiss on Jared’s neck. ‘‘I’ll get these in the wash,’’ he nods towards the clothing tucked in his right arm, ‘‘then we can tackle the main part of brunch before you give Jensen his surprise, yes?’’

‘‘Sounds a plan.’’

* * *

 

The way Jensen devoured the fluffy omelet like there would be no tomorrow was a little saddening to Jared.

Jensen acted as if the meal would’ve been his last by practically inhaling the mouthfuls. Unlike when accepting the bottle, there had been no reluctance or tint of embarrassment from Jensen. The boy hastily latched his lips onto the fork Jeff had held out with a feral air mixed with sheer, ravenous hunger. Jared was pretty certain that, even if he didn’t already know his and Jeff’s little boy was painfully thin, he would’ve assumed so anyway given Jensen’s reaction.

Regardless, for all the late-start of their day had been a success with Jensen and feedings so far, there was still a growing dilemma. It was an issue that came in the form a grumpy-faced adult baby who was holding back the urge to pee in his diaper. Seeing such an act took an awful lot for Jared not to say anything further than reassurances but, as time ticked on and Jensen continued to jiggle about in his lap, he was reaching the end of his tether. Their boy needed to go and, as much as Jared wanted to give Jensen the surprise toy he had ordered, this issue needed to be addressed.

He didn’t want to force Jensen. Really, he didn’t. This was something Jensen had to by himself, wasn’t it?

Jared frowned from his position on the couch, his eyes lifting towards the kitchen doorway as he listened to the distant sounds of Jeff puttering about in the utility room. He was half tempted to double-check with Jeff, his mind swirling with doubt and worry. Last thing he wanted to do was ruin their first day as parents, but he was hardly feeling any joy watching Jensen looking so miserable.

The little guy was restless on Jared’s lap, the brief moment of bliss from a decent meal replaced with antsy desperation. Jensen didn’t even protest when Jared popped a blue soother between those pouty lips, possibly happy for a distraction. Although, now, such a diversion wasn’t working as Jared heard the tell-tale squeak of teeth meeting rubber.

‘‘Ah-ah, no chewing,’’ Jared gave a light tap upon the pacifier.

Jensen let out an irritated huff at him, only to do as he was told.

It was kind of adorable how grumpy Jensen seemed to be. Jared knew it was still early days, they were all still getting a feel for each other. But to see Jensen make his displeasure known was good in Jared’s opinion. Still, as much as he was starting to admire the boy’s cutely stubborn ways, it irked him that Jensen could be hurting himself. After all, ignoring Nature’s call wasn’t just uncomfortable, but damaging and stupid.

‘‘You can get kidney infections from holding back, sweetheart,’’ Jared tried again, his tactic changing. ‘‘You’ve had enough time to go and – ’’ he dipped a hand between Jensen’s legs, ignoring the squeak and slap of palms he gained, ‘‘ – yup. I guessed as much, you’re still dry.’’

‘‘N’umph!’’ Jensen garbled around his pacifier

‘‘You gonna try go for Daddy, Jensen?’’ Jared coaxed, his finger expertly hooking the soother free.

‘‘I can’t – ’’ the Modified male gulped, floundering. ‘‘Please, I – can I just go t’bathroom?’’

Jared sighed, just a little bit tempted to give in. ‘‘It doesn’t work that way, baby.’’

A thin keening noise from Jensen followed suit.

Decision silently made, Jared swallowed down his reservations and slipped to his feet with Jensen in his arms. The boy startled at the sudden movement, small hands fisting in Jared’s top. Swiftly, Jared nudged the pacifier back into his Little’s mouth, knowing that a few tears or shouts might be soon to follow. What he was going to do wasn’t going to be pleasant, but it was necessary.

He smiled reassuringly at Jensen’s confused, wide-eyed stare and made a point of keeping his small form pinned against his chest. Ignoring the jumbled protest, Jared kept one arm under Jensen’s knees while using the other so that the forearm ran along his back and hand could cup the back of his blond head. Only then, with a firm but gentle hold, did Jared add a little pressure via press of Jensen sandwiched between his arm and chest.

Almost immediately Jensen protested with slurred curses.

Jared would’ve stopped at such a gut-wrenching, half-muffled sob Jensen produced, but he didn’t. Instead he continued his action, purposefully holding Jensen’s head down against his shoulder to keep the pacifier from being spat out. He knew he wasn’t hurting or restricting the boy’s breathing, not when he focused his main source of light pressure around Jensen’s lower half, not chest. Still, Jared found himself nervously pacing the room, hyper-aware of Jensen’s tense body and flailing, little feet beating against his abs.

‘‘I know, I know,’’ Jared chanted, apologetic. ‘‘I don’t like this anymore than you do, baby boy. Papa and I only wants what’s best for you, we’d never force you into anything unless it’s for your own good. Holding back the urge to go potty isn’t healthy, it can hurt you. Shh, shh, now.’’

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jeff hovering by the kitchen door. He winced, doubt and guilt blending together as he assumed his husband’s tight expression came down to Jared’s current act. Maybe…maybe he shouldn’t have pushed, Jensen? But –  
  
_Oh._  
  
Jared paused his internal ramblings, his worry clearly unfounded as Jeff offered him a gentle smile and nod of approval. Shoulders sagging with relief, he returned his husband’s warm, affectionate gaze. It was during such a moment that Jared very nearly missed the hitch of Jensen’s breath followed by the slow but sudden swell of the diaper against him.

‘‘Such a good boy,’’ Jared said, his grip on Jensen loosening.

The curve of his neck was damp with moisture, be it from spilt tears or heated breath, he didn’t know nor care. All which mattered was Jensen wasn’t hurting himself anymore, and Jared could rest easy. Jensen was red-faced and limp, practically wrung out, against his shoulder while panting against a spit-frothy pacifier.

‘‘A very good boy,’’ Jeff praised upon approach. ‘‘That is,’’ he added, ‘‘despite the cussing I overheard.’’

Wincing, Jared had been hoping Jeff hadn’t heard Jensen’s bout of sniffled insults. Still… ‘‘I’m sure he won’t do it again,’’ Jared reasoned, his eyes slipping to look into Jensen’s own. ‘‘Isn’t that right, sweetpea?’’

A sullen sniff was his only reply, and Jared smiled sympathetically. He shifted his hold upon Jensen, this time opting to cradle him in one arm while using his other hand to swipe away the boy’s stray tears and dribbled spit. It was only after such tender touches did Jeff swoop in to deliver a kiss to them both: one upon Jensen’s golden-brown crown and the other upon Jared’s lips. Jared was about the repeat the action himself, until he caught sight of what Jeff had in his hands.

It was Jensen’s surprise; a fluffy little plushie Jared had ordered on a whim last night.


	4. Chapter 4

Black eyes, soft-pink nose and impossibly long ears – it was a toy rabbit, plain and simple and the color of pure honey.

Jensen honestly didn’t know what he felt upon being presented with the gift. He was still riled up from Jared making him piss himself as the prickles of the mortification, along with the cooling wetness around his crotch, remained. Plus, he’d never had a gift before, let alone a toy. Even as a kid, during the time with his parents, he had a solid memory of his father slapping his hand away from a cheap plastic dinosaur that came free with cereal. It was weird recalling such a memory, but it just came to him in a flash.

‘‘Papa and I already had a few toys ready for a baby of our own,’’ Jared spoke up, his voice vibrating through Jensen’s frame. ‘‘But this,’’ Jared inclines his head towards the stuffed animal, ‘‘this bunny was specially picked for you, Jensen. D’you wanna say, Hi?’’

No, Jensen thinks. No, he most certainly does not.

He makes his opinion known by rolling his head away and burying his face into Jared’s vest top. It’s a great way to hide his glare, even if he can hear Jeff chuckle.

‘‘Think he’d rather get a dry diaper on, love,’’ Jeff says.

Jensen finds himself nodding, eager to get out the vile contraption. It’s only when he lets his brain catch up with his action that he realizes what a fresh diaper means. It means nakedness and touching _down there_. Before Jensen can help himself he’s spitting out the soother and grumbling out a series of alternatives to both men. The pair of them don’t look annoyed, especially Jeff who is having to pick up Jensen’s fallen pacifier. The male couple merely continue to be amused at his antics, like he’s some sort of puppy barking at his reflection.

‘‘You’ve been so good, Jensen, so good,’’ Jared shushes him with a bounce.

‘‘Let’s get you freshened up, hmm?’’ Jeff wheedles.

And Jensen finds himself subjected to a brush of Jeff’s calloused fingers under his chin. The older man has warm, roughened hands with thicker fingers in comparison to Jared’s larger, softer set. Jensen tries not to think too much about his silent evaluation and the fact, barely a few hours into being their ‘baby’, he could probably figure out who was who with his eyes closed.

He likes to assume picking apart things is in his nature, nothing more.

At least, that is what Jensen tells himself as Jared hoists him onto his hip. He cringes at the movement, feeling the diaper squish and heat fill his features. Yet, before he can fuss, Jeff is placing that damnable rabbit in his arms and –

‘‘Oh,’’ Jensen exhales, surprised. It’s _soft_.

So, so soft. Softer than the bedding which Jensen had woken up this morning, and that was extremely comfortable. He’s always been a sucker for the velvety smooth things in life, like the ripped, downy scarf he had fished out of a trash can around his 21st birthday. Soft textures soothed him, simple as. Jensen didn’t know if it was some fucked up, childish habit he had garnered for comfort over the years but, for as long as he could recall, he’d spend hours rubbing his finger and thumb over any soft material.

Which was what he was doing now with one of the rabbit’s ears.

In fact, Jensen was so lost in caressing the honey colored fur that he didn’t notice Jeff and Jared talking or moving. He got lost in bringing one long, floppy ear up to his mouth and nose, falling into a lull as he ran it over the tip of his nose. The trance was broken, though, when he found himself back in the nursery and deposited atop a lightly padded surface.

‘‘Seems like somebody’s got a new friend,’’ Jared said, complete with a huge grin.

Jensen guiltily averts his eyes, one hand still clutching the rabbit’s downy ear. It’s not a friend, it’s just soft, but Jensen’s not going to say that as Jared eases him into lying back. He feels sick and exposed way before he hears the snap of buttons of his sleeper coming undone. Jared’s hands feel downright ginormous when they encircle his limbs and gently extract them from the confines of his clothing.

It’s embarrassing to be stripped and…changed. Then again, he’s still humiliated over pissing himself. He tells himself to stay calm, reminds the panicky part of his brain that he needs to act fine with diapers and bottles for the Greater Plan of escape. Just because he’s been homeless – gone without bathing for months, pissed in alleyways and rooted around in dumpsters – doesn’t mean he lacks pride. He knows that is what his embarrassment is mainly about, the fact his self-respect feels bludgeoned each time Jeff calls him ‘sunshine’...

Or when Jared peels off his soggy diaper.

‘‘That’s m’boy,’’ Jared beams, uncaring of the pungent whiff of urine. ‘‘No need to be shy, now. Daddy’s had to do this when we first brought you home. Papa and I didn’t want you to wake up with a rash –’’

Jensen feels his brain short circuit from the information and tune out the rest. The time in Burbank had been a blur and, yeah, Jensen had hazy memories of being wiped clean. But to find out Jeff and Jared had already changed him? Well, Jensen doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or shamed.

After all, it’s one thing to be out of sorts and wrangled into diapers by a cold-faced stranger, yet it was entirely something else when he has to pretend to be okay with this. It hardly helps matters that Jared is lacking the aloof, clinical air the workers at Burbank projected and, instead, is chattering playfully with tender touches. Plus, there is the additional fact Jensen has an audience during this one-on-one activity in the form of Jeff. The older man had not long reappeared behind Jared’s shoulder, his warm eyes alight with awe as he began to place a few items by his husband’s elbow.

Diaper, wipes, cream, power…Jensen almost diverts his attention from such items until he zeroes in on what looks like a newly washed attire fit for his miniscule frame.

In the end, his attention is cut short. The cool sweep of a wet wipe against his genitals and buttocks sends Jensen’s mind into a muddled mush of horror. An involuntary whimper escapes him the moment Jared’s _singular_ hand encompass _both_ his ankles and lift his lower half up for further access. He’s vaguely aware of Jeff’s gravelly tone and Jared’s soft drawl talking, but Jensen doesn’t know if they’re talking to him or each other; he isn’t listening.  
  
No, Jensen’s too busy attempting to smother his heated face into the plump, soft belly of his gifted rabbit.

* * *

 

‘‘Jen _sen_ ,’’ Jared called, amused.

Green eyes slid away from looking out of the glass patio doors to regard Jared with a half-lidded stare. He almost laughed at his new son’s expression, the building giddiness he had experienced from yesterday bubbling over into today. If Jared had found the remainder of yesterday afternoon blissful after Jensen’s first, conscious diaper change, then today felt downright heavenly.

Everything seemed to be going relatively smoothly despite his and Jeff’s concerns over Jensen’s true agenda. They both kept waiting for the moment for Jensen to slap a bottle away or kick his legs during a diaper change and utter something akin to, _‘‘I want out of this’’_. Yet, no matter how many times Jared held his breath waiting for such a response (and inevitable action of letting Jensen go to permanently leave them) it never came. If anything, Jensen seemed to warm up a tiny little bit since their previous evening of good food and cuddling when watching the Disney channel on TV.

That said, Jared still felt they had a long ways to go with getting Jensen to embrace his position as their baby. One key example of such was the little’s lack of interest in the toys Jared had hauled out the nursery after their satisfying breakfast. Currently, Jensen seemed to be more interested in looking out into the huge expanse of garden and neighboring fields as opposed to playing.

Ignoring such thoughts, Jared tried again – he thumped his hand playfully against the large, circular rug that occupied the space between the back of the sofa and far wall.

‘‘C’mere, baby boy,’’ he crooked a finger at Jensen.

Although obviously reluctant, Jensen did peel himself away from the glass. Jared swallowed down the triumphant hoot building in his throat as he watched the Modified male toddle towards him. A burst of sheer adoration filled him at the cute image Jensen made, clad only in a diaper and stripy blue, short-sleeved bodysuit, his little legs on full show. It took an awful lot of Jared’s will power to not scoop the boy up and nuzzle him like some overly large, affectionate cat.

‘‘Look, Daddy’s got building blocks for you,’’ Jared coaxed. ‘‘Wanna play?’’

Jensen didn’t look impressed, but did plop down upon the crimson-cream rug. Jared remained unfazed and eager, his hands automatically tipping the container over to spill the contents of smooth, wooden blocks and shapes onto the floor. He tried not to think too much into the way Jensen, who had previously been fiddling with his pacifier when looking out the window, stuffed the item into his mouth when in his company. Instead, Jared paid attention to the task at hand…

‘‘Hmm, what should we build?’’ he spoke in a thoughtful tone.

His and Jeff’s little guy gave a shrug before timidly reaching for his forgotten stuffed bunny.

‘‘We could make bunny a home, if you want,’’ Jared suggested, picking up a smooth, hand-carved cylinder. He felt his lips twitch into a bigger grin when Jensen copied his action with one hand, the other hand still worrying away at the downy fabric of the rabbit’s ear.

It was becoming a steady habit to see Jensen caressing the soft fuzz which, according to Jeff, must’ve been a self-soothing action Jensen had carried on into adulthood. Not that they, Jeff and himself, were complaining. Seeing such an innocent, childish action merely strengthened their resolve with gaining Jensen’s trust and love.

Ducking lower in his posture, Jared couldn’t help but whisper, ‘‘has he got a name?’’

‘‘She,’’ Jensen corrected around his pacifier.

Given the way those emerald eyes widened, Jared could only assume the response unintentionally slipped out. How cute. He chuckled, fondly, and ignored Jensen’s embarrassment in favour of prodding the plushie’s triangle-shaped nose.

‘‘A girl bunny, huh? Guess she’s your honey bunny – hey,’’ he clicks his fingers, ‘‘that’s a good name, Jensey. You goin’ to call her Honey?’’

Jensen’s reply is in the form of a gentle hum that is neither approval nor disapproval. Silently, Jared sticks with the name ‘Honey’ as Jensen proceeds to lay down several blocks of cubic and rectangular shapes to produce a flat, platform-like zone. He wonders what the boy is building yet, instead of asking, Jared presses a kiss against the soft warmth of Jensen’s cheek while waiting. It doesn’t take long and, when Jensen lays Honey atop the platform, Jared assumes the obvious choice.

‘‘You made her a bed, sweetheart?’’

‘‘Ah,’’ a familiar, new voice cuts in, ‘‘and what a wonderfully designed bed, too.’’

‘‘Jeff,’’ Jared smiles in greeting.

‘‘I come bearing drinks,’’ his husband says, carefully balancing two mugs and a stubby bottle. ‘‘Peach flavored water for Jensen, and coffee for Daddy and I,’’ Jeff elaborates, carefully giving Jared his mug.

An utterance of thanks leaves Jared’s mouth immediately as he sets his mug a little ways offside the rug and on the hardwood. Jeff, however, lowers himself down on Jensen’s unoccupied side, taking a sip of his own drink while handing Jensen his bottle. The youngest of the trio shows no interest in the provided drink, his small hands tucking blocks upon the platform, directly under Honey’s head.

‘‘Aw, you makin’ pillows for her?’’ Jared coos.

Jeff runs a hand over Jensen’s hair. ‘‘Good job, sunshine.’’

‘‘You’re better than Papa at building things, your bed fits Honey Bunny perfectly,’’ he adds on to Jeff’s praise.

‘‘Jensen’s crib would’ve fitted him perfectly, too,’’ Jeff huffs into his mug.

‘‘Babe…’’ Jared sighs. He can see where this is going.

‘‘Well, it would’ve if those…people didn’t force Mods on him. That crib would’ve fitted his previous height of six-foot-one with room to spare.’’

Rubbing the back of his neck, Jared nods. It is true they had designed the nursery for a larger baby before discussing consensual Modification. Jensen’s tiny self looks adorably lost amongst the blankets in the large crib when sleeping. Still, in spite of expectations and growing used to Jensen’s small, comforting weight in his arms, Jared can’t view Jensen as anything else other than this tiny, two-foot-five-ish darling.

‘‘How’d you…?’’ the voice is soft, but deep, with a faint rasp to it.

Jared is ashamed to admit he almost didn’t hear the question, let alone link it to their usually silent adult baby. Luckily, he’s so wrapped up in everything Jensen that it only takes two blinks to recognize the world-weary tone laced with curiosity as Jensen’s rarely heard voice. Instantly he is glancing down at Jensen, his eyes taking in the furrowed brow and fallen pacifier sitting between his skinny little thighs.

‘‘Papa does a lot of bespoke wooden furniture for work, Jensen,’’ Jared begins to explain. ‘‘He made your crib and other furniture around the house.’’ He lifts up a triangular-shaped block, adding, ‘‘he even carved these for you –’’

Only to find himself interjected by Jensen piping up. ‘‘No, my height. How’d you both know that?’’

It’s a little disheartening to note that, aside from the talk they engaged in when bringing Jensen home, this is the most the little guy had spoken. Curiosity seems to be Jensen’s weak spot, the need for answers knocking aside his shyness. Either way, it doesn’t matter and Jared offers an easy smile, ready to explain, until Jeff beats him to it.

‘‘Daddy and I got a small file from the Burbank Adoption Agency, sweetheart.’’ Jeff keeps his eyes glued to Jensen’s own when speaking, his tone faintly apologetic. ‘‘We read it on a whim, only checking in case it included any important information like allergies or something. I hope you don’t feel upset by this, it wasn’t a purposeful act of breaking confidentiality…the notes didn’t even include much. Just mentioned age, previous height and a listing of records, like a date followed by a noted event such as ‘entered foster care’.’’

Jensen looks pale and…irked. Over what, exactly, Jared could only guess given Jensen’s silence. Even Jeff, who usually had to answers to everything in Jared’s mind, looked stumped. Jared could only follow instinct and, without missing a beat, went about tugging Jensen into his lap for a cuddle.

‘‘But Papa and Daddy don’t care about those silly things,’’ Jared confessed. ‘‘We want to get to know the real Jensen, our little boy, not the formal report.’’

He felt Jensen nod against his bicep with a soft, ‘‘m’kay.’’

Jared viewed it as progress.

* * *

 

Forcing open his eyes, Jensen resisted the urge to drop back off into sleep. It was hard work, though. He was comfortable, warm and still full from the pot roast Jared had cooked for dinner and the pre-bedtime bottle of milk. While a little unsettling, Jensen was surprised how easy it was, minus the cringe-worthy babying, to somewhat relax around the male couple when they kept him fed so well. Never before had he felt so content – at least, physically.

Internally, Jensen was awash with displeasure, which was pretty much why he was forcing himself awake. He hadn’t planned to fall asleep during the bottle Jeff fed him. There was a new motive to staying awake; he had fully intended to get his hands on the aforementioned file. He had felt, dare he say it, violated upon discovering the bastards at Burbank had not only physically altered him, but also garnered information about him to dole out.

So, be it curiosity or a sense of entitlement, Jensen was determined to have a peek at what Jeff and Jared knew about him. The task was difficult, though, almost as difficult as it would be to escape the rural property. One or both men were forever in his company, rarely leaving him long enough to do any proper snooping. Still, he had managed to find the suspected location of the folder not long after his enforced, afternoon nap.

Now, however, was simply a case of retrieving it.

Rubbing at his eyes, Jensen kicked the blankets off and relished in his unfolding mission. The nursery was bathed in the dim, warm glow from the owl light that not only highlighted the room layout, but also reflected off the pitch-blackness of night visible through the window. Clearly, it was late. Very, very late. He didn’t need to worry about Jeff and Jared at such a time, both males should be conked out and drooling on their pillows, allowing Jensen free reign to investigate.

Firstly, he just needed to get out the accursed crib…which was harder than he anticipated. It took a brief moment of thought and straining until he figured out the best way. He tossed the toy rabbit out, letting it fall on the carpet before hauling himself up and hooking a leg over the railing. For once, Jensen was grateful for the choice of Jared’s clothing for him; the one-piece sleeper might’ve announced him as a ‘cuddle monster’ in thick, blue lettering (complete with a cartoon, purple monster) but the non-footies made escape easier.

His bare feet didn’t slip or slide against the railing and, in mere moments, Jensen had clambered over and dropped down on his padded rear, his toy rabbit softening the blow. After that, he wasted no time with stretching up to the door handle and opened the door as quietly as possible. The hallway was eerily dark and, with some trepidation, he stepped out onto the cool, hardwood flooring…

And almost jumped out of his skin at the loud snore that reached his ears.

The nursery door was directly opposite another, open door in the shortest part of the T-shaped corridor. The startling noise emitted from such a room and, only upon creeping forth, did Jensen catch a glimpse of what he could assume was the master bedroom. Even in the gloom of night he could spot the massive bed and familiar, albeit naked, forms of Jeff and a deep-snoring Jared.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what those two had been up to before passing out. Jensen wrinkled his nose, partly at the sight and partly at the musky whiff of sex lingering in the air. Jared was flat on his belly, doing an impression of a starfish with the way his arms and legs were flung over Jeff’s torso. The quilt was strewn upon the floor, leaving only a thin sheet to barely cover Jared’s ass and, luckily enough, Jensen was saved the horror of seeing Jeff’s junk due to the power of darker shadows.

He couldn’t help but shake his head at the sleeping duo before taking a turn, passing two doors and scampering off as quickly and quietly as possible into the main hallway. If Jeff and Jared had tired themselves out then it only strengthened Jensen’s chances of not being caught. He still didn’t wholly believe in their overly nice ways, silently waiting for the other shoe to drop and find himself seeing Jeff and Jared true colors.

So, with that in mind, Jensen planned to not face the older men’s wrath and go undetected: fetch the file, read it, and replace it. However, that was easier said than done. He might’ve known of the file’s location, but reaching it was entirely another matter. It was only upon entering the moon-lit living room that Jensen recalled as such and had to hold back the urge to slap his forehead.

Bookshelves.

That’s where the innocent, manila folder stamped with the logo of ‘Burbank A.B Adoption Agency’ was. The file was three shelves up from the floor, half-tucked between a row of books and a bronze moose statue. It would require a little bit of climbing, Jensen supposed, mid-creep into the living room. He craned his neck, eyes squinted towards the back of the living room, opposite from the sitting area and in front of the large, circular rug in which Jensen had occupied most of the day. The built-in shelves dominated the back wall, split into two – one on the left and one on the right, with an expanse of wall set between them – and Jensen knew he had spotted the file within the bookshelf closest to the patio windows

Jensen quickly headed in such a direction, tripping over a stray toy and narrowly knocking the building block castle Jared had made with him. He ended up stumbling, the damn bulky diaper making his legs clumsy, and hit the hardwood with an audible _thwack_. The noise sounded deafening in the silence of night, his heart stuttering at the expected wake-up and arrival of Jeff or Jared. But no, after several beats, no disruptions came and Jensen hastily got back onto his feet.

He passed the wall that separated the two cases, his eyes barely lingering on the hodgepodge of photo frames that covered the wall in an array of sizes and shapes. Jensen had his fill of eying up the medley earlier on in the day, having caught sight of stranger’s smiling faces amongst the familiar images that occupied Jeff and Jared. Now, though, Jensen paid no attention to the photographs (not even the surreal picture of a young, clean-shaven Jeff and lanky Jared) and went about clambering the shelves.

It was far from an easy task; everything felt out of reach and his hands were clammy with nervousness. He prevailed, though, with determination and soft grumblings. Jensen managed to get his feet on the second shelf up, practically balancing on his toes to rest one arm atop the third shelf, his other hand’s fingertips brushing the file –

Until a set of hands slipped under his armpits and pulled him away from his prize.

An indignant sputter burst forth from Jensen’s mouth almost immediately. At least, until his brain caught up with him. Only then did he hunch his shoulders and wince at the fact he had been caught. He had tried so hard, been near-silent and…suddenly found himself crushed against a bare, hairy chest.

‘‘Jensen.’’

The voice spoke his name like rumbled thunder, and Jensen really didn’t need to peer up to know it was Jeff. If the warm, pelt-like hair tickling his cheek wasn’t obvious enough, the sleep-roughened voice was. Jensen could only hold his breath, wait for the expected punishment that would show Jeff and Jared’s true selves and –

‘‘You could’ve just fell and hurt yourself,’’ Jeff smoothly interjected his thoughts. ‘‘What on earth are you doing out of bed, sweetheart?’’

Blinking, Jensen found his cheek cupped by the warm, calloused hand and tipped up to look into Jeff’s eyes. The man isn’t angry or irritated. Jeff looks fresh out of bed, sleep-rumpled and naked save for a pair of tugged on boxer briefs. Yet, in spite of his creased forehead and tugged down lips, it’s clear Jeff does feel something: worry.  
  
Worried for Jensen’s safety.

It’s a concept that Jensen finds foreign and, maybe, just a little bit reassuring.


	5. Chapter 5

After flicking the kitchen light on with his elbow, Jeff winced. The stark, bright light burned his tired eyes and left him blinking as he padded further into the kitchen. He wasn’t the only one affected by the light-to-dark transition, and he squinted down at the sight of Jensen’s rosy cheek pressed against his chest.

The boy was all but burrowing his face into the thick hair of his chest in a bid to avoid the light. It was an adorable sight, especially given the sulky, unreadable expression on Jensen’s face, his small teeth worrying away at his bottom lip. Jeff didn’t think twice about thumbing the plush softness of Jensen's lower lip, saving it from further damage. The action garnered Jensen’s attention, though. Those lovely green eyes widened before flicking up to meet his own in a mix of guilt and embarrassment.

‘‘Talk to me, buddy,’’ Jeff murmured.

He had an inkling what Jensen had been up to at such an ungodly hour – his little man’s motives were clear as day. It was obvious as to what Jensen had been mid-reach for; the file from Burbank had been the boy’s main focus until Jeff plucked him away. Still, the older man hadn’t expected to see Jensen dangling from the third shelf up. He had been half-asleep and had woken up craving a cold glass of orange juice when he stumbled into the living room.

‘‘Jensen,’’ Jeff carries on, softly, ‘‘you really shouldn’t have gotten out of your crib. You could’ve cracked your head open, sunshine. And that’s before you almost fell off those shelves I saw you climbing –’’

‘‘I wasn’t gonna fall!’’ Jensen pipes up, clearly affronted.

It takes a lot of effort for Jeff not to smile. Jensen, it seems, can be a little spitfire.

Instead, Jeff quells his need to grin by recalling the gut-swooping feeling of fear he had felt upon spotting Jensen precariously scaling the shelves. The sheer thought of Jensen toppling over and hurting himself had Jeff feeling shaky. That said, all he could do was temper down the spark of lingering panic and hold Jensen a little closer. He let loose a non-committal hum, one hand absently patting the padded curve of Jensen’s bottom as he continued to probe for confirmation.

‘‘And what had you up there in the first place, eh?’’

Jensen made a disgruntled noise, eyes averted.

‘‘I’m not mad, baby boy,’’ Jeff was quick to reassure. ‘‘Just…’’ he sighed, his lips brushing against his son’s furrowed brow. ‘‘Just you could’ve hurt yourself. What was worth that?’’

Wriggling in his arms, Jensen finally spoke up in a rasp. ‘‘I wanted to see that file. I wanted to…to know what you knew ‘bout me.’’

‘‘Mhm, I thought so.’’ Jeff nodded, swaying a little in his step towards the fridge. ‘‘But, Jensen,’’ he added, catching the boy’s eyes, ‘‘that file doesn’t tell us about you, does it? Daddy said we wanted to know you, not bits of information.’’

‘‘I – ’’

Jeff silenced the Modified Little One with a light tap on the nose. ‘‘If you want something, you ask,’’ he smiled, his tone mildly stern. ‘‘All you had to do was ask us, sunshine. Jared and I would do anything for you unless it goes against your best interests. Understand?’’

‘‘I guess so,’’ Jensen uttered, turning his face away.

It was hard to be annoyed at such a response, especially when Jensen’s grumpiness was becoming a frequent, if adorable, trait. Maybe he should’ve been a bit sterner, set out further rules, but there was no rush. Jeff simply snorted, feeling like a complete push over, and hoisted Jensen a little higher in his arms. Any sense of upset or irritation over his baby’s recklessness was washed away those small, skinny arms naturally came up to wind around his neck.

‘‘Good boy,’’ Jeff beamed, delighted. He stroked Jensen’s back, listening to the explosive exhale that followed as the boy’s body lost its tenseness. Only then did Jeff proceed to crack open the fridge and talk through his actions in a gentle, soothing tone. ‘‘Papa’ll make you a bottle, then its back to bed with no climbing out, yes?’’

Jensen gave a nod, his head tucked under Jeff’s chin.

Smiling, Jeff went through the process of taking a swig of orange juice before warming up a bottle of milk single-handedly. It didn’t take long to do and, way before Jensen got squirmy and restless, he had already turned off the kitchen light and stepped into the moon-lit living room. He snagged the afghan blanket that draped along the back of the couch and happily flopped down in his recliner, readjusting his hold on Jensen. Only then, after tucking the blanket around them both, did Jeff settle back and proffer the bottle’s rubber nipple.

Jensen latched on the plastic teat without preamble and open eyes. The latter seemed like such a huge feat to Jeff, even if Jensen wasn’t looking at him and, instead, seemed to favor going cross-eyed upon watching the milk slosh about in the bottle. Jeff couldn’t help but smile; his and Jared’s boy hadn’t done this before, often keeping those beautiful green eyes tightly shut. This was improvement and, without a doubt, cute as hell.

How long he spent reverently watching and listening to Jensen sloppily suckle away, he wasn’t sure. All Jeff knew was that he was peace with Jensen’s slight weight and one Jared-shaped step away from being in utter Heaven. Still, it was some point between making low, shushing noises and watching Jensen’s tiny fingers worming through the holes of the crocheted blanket in which Jensen slipped back into sleep, his bottle unfinished.

Jeff was fully prepared to get up, place Jensen back in his crib, and return to his husband’s side…until he closed his eyes. He only planned to close them for a moment, rest his tired eyes briefly. However, as fleetingly as Jeff thought he would be, he must’ve fallen asleep because, now, with a crick in his neck and the sunlight invading his eyes, he discovered it was morning.

Jensen-less and morning, that is.

Stretching sluggishly, he let out a groan and didn’t worry about the former of the two changes. The sound of Jared chattering away in the kitchen was faint, but there. It was obvious there was only one person his husband was talking to and, with a few joints popping in protest, Jeff slithered out his chair and made a beeline for the kitchen. The sight which greeted him was one he’d always envisioned when Jared first mentioned wanting an adult baby all those years ago – an image of family domesticity.

He took a few moments to drink up in the sight of Jensen seated upon the kitchen island, his bib showing the aftermath of breakfast and a shy, barely there, smile hidden behind his pacifier. Jared, on the other hand, was preoccupied with talking animatedly about something while delicately wiping down Jensen’s sticky, little fingers. The other man didn’t even notice Jeff’s approach until he playfully nuzzled his scruffy beard against Jared’s smoothly shaven jaw.

‘‘Hey, you,’’ Jared laughed, mid-kiss.

Jeff inwardly preened under the affection before blowing a kiss upon Jensen’s cheek. The boy almost laughed. Well, if you counted an amused huff mingled with a startled snuffle-like sound as a laugh. Either way, Jeff continued to feel his good mood grow despite his poor sleep and swiped a finger across Jensen’s bib. It was syrup, he noted. Clearly he had missed out on Jared’s famous waffles…

‘‘You should’ve woke me,’’ Jeff sighed.

The taller on the duo merely hummed, his attention solely on Jensen. Jeff gave the little guy a wink and watched, silently, as Jared placed their baby on the floor. Jensen immediately took off, his small feet pitter-pattering against the stone tiles of the kitchen and disappearing somewhere around the counters. Only then, with Jensen out of ear-shot, did Jared speak up.

‘‘Seems like you needed the sleep after your nightly adventure.’’

‘‘Ah.’’ Jeff knew Jared was teasing, but… ‘‘I caught Jensen out of his crib.’’

‘‘Yeah, I know. He told me this morning,’’ Jared explained. ‘‘That is, after he asked to see this.’’ He made a point of tapping the familiar file from Burbank that was currently open on the kitchen island. ‘‘It’s the most we’ve talked and I think he expected me to say no to him, you know?’’

‘‘Trust issues. We’ll get there soon, hun. Jensen’s came far already.’’

‘‘I know.’’ Jared looked a little put out. ‘‘Still, I should’ve heard him getting out his crib. What if…what if he hurt himself and –?’’

‘‘Hey, less of that,’’ Jeff cut-in, playful. He bumped his hip against his husband’s. ‘‘You’re more than perfect at this Daddy business, we just need to invest in some baby monitors.’’

That earned him a kiss of thanks – something that Jeff hastened to lengthen before huskily adding, ‘‘besides, we both know you normally hear everything. It’s not your fault I kinda wore you out last night.’’

Jared barked out a laugh, shoving Jeff away. ‘‘You wish, Casanova,’’ Jared snorted. ‘‘Now, move it, and I’ll make you some waffles.’’

Yeah, Jeff thought. This was becoming a perfect morning.

* * *

 

  
It was inevitable, Jensen knew this.  
  
Apart of him was surprised he had lasted this long given the amount of food he had been fed so far. Being fed three times a day was something he hadn’t experienced in, dare he admit it, years. So, three square meals plus snacks? Yeah, Jensen was surprised that he had lasted this long. He had only just begun to force himself into peeing in his diaper, trying to stick to his plan of being fine over this baby business, and that was difficult enough. Now, though, a more mortifying bodily function needed to happen, and Jensen nearing a meltdown.

He tried to stay calm and remind himself that, surely, he must’ve had his waste cleaned up when back at Burbank. But still, the fact it would be Jeff or Jared cleaning up the revolting mess he would make made the entirety of the situation worse. Jensen might’ve not trusted them wholly, but they seemed like nice guys and happened to treat him well. He just didn’t…understand why they wanted to deal with gross things like diapers.

Jensen pulled a face at it all, thinking about it wasn’t helping his plight any.

Sighing, he wrapped his arms around his cramping stomach and squatted down, perfectly hidden underneath the kitchen table. Lunch had just finished and he could hear Jared humming to himself in the utility room, ironing or loading laundry, while Jeff wandered around the living room. The elder of the male pair had received a phone call a few minutes ago, and Jensen could faintly hear the man’s deep voice as he talked away to someone called ‘Jim’.

‘‘…so that’s pretty much how we found Jensen. Not ideal, I know, but he’s a perfect little man, Jim. It’s why I sent you that email about not taking commissions for a while. We’ve got enough of our furniture to sell in the warehouse if – ’’

Tuning out the rest of the chatter, Jensen closed his eyes. He kept them shut, letting his body do what it needed to do as his face heated up to the point it felt hot enough to melt off with shame. Tears sprung a little from his eyes, dampening his eyelashes and, unable to help himself, he sniffled. This was a new low, but he told himself it was for the greater good and far better to do it himself than have his new ‘parents’ coax him into going.  
  
He finished doing his business, feeling gross and angry, and blinked open his watery eyes. At first, he thought he was seeing things. But no, that was Jared half-crouched on the floor and ducking a little under the table. Had the man just seen him…?

A sob, loud and laced with a hiccup, broke forth from Jensen’s mouth.  
  
Before he could register that he was blubbering like the baby Jeff and Jared wanted to be, Jared was scooping him out from underneath the table. The huge man peppered Jensen’s face with kisses, shushing him and cooing endearments that really didn’t help his embarrassment. He was vaguely aware of being passed on to Jeff at some point, only because his clammy fingers had been gently prized from Jared’s shirt.  
  
Still, Jensen was lost in sea of turmoil – right up until he felt Jeff expertly finish cleaning him up. Only then, with the vile mess removed and shame buried in the diaper pail, did he dare open his eyes. Jeff simply looked down at him with than unbelievably soft look while cleaning his hands. The expression has zero hints of disgust or annoyance and, if anything, is aglow is pride. The whole unspeakable event leaves Jensen in a sniffly sort of silence.

‘‘My big brave boy, huh?’’ Jeff whispers at him.  
  
The man rubs a hairy knuckle against Jensen’s cheek and, maybe it’s because he feels out of sorts, but Jensen leans in to the touch. It earns him a whiskery kiss on his brow before he’s picked up, his freshly cleaned bottom perched on Jeff’s forearm. He wonders why he’s not tucked into a new diaper, the sudden change in – two or three day’s worth – of routine already unsettling him.

Jensen finds out exactly why he’s been left half-naked when Jeff carries him into the corridor and takes a turn into what must be the main bathroom. The sound of running water and fragrant whiff of lavender invades his senses almost as quickly as it takes him to spot Jared. The floppy haired man is leaning over an oval bathtub that could, quite possibly, fit three-or-four fully grown men.  
  
‘‘Babe,’’ Jeff gains Jared’s attention.

The younger man stops swishing bubble bath in the tub and glances over as Jeff places Jensen on the cool, oatmeal colored floor. The tiles are a little chilly on his feet, but it isn’t like he’s there for long. Before he knows it, Jeff has slunk back out into the corridor and Jared’s lifting Jensen up and into his arms. It’s silly, he knows, but having Jared’s blinding smile and soft, ticklish touches against his sides is a more than welcome distraction from everything.

It’s like today is full of overreaction and stupidity on Jensen’s behalf. Firstly, the whole file business was nothing to get worked up over. It didn’t include anything personal, but stats and paper trails of his existence. Secondly, his sudden burst of tears. And, finally, his fragile, mortified thoughts as a whole.

He just wants to switch off for a while, simply let go for a few minutes and not think.

Which is pretty easy to do when Jared is babbling away at him in the soothingly soft tone. The older male is emitting praise at him, treating him like he’s won a Nobel Prize as opposed to fully using his diaper. Jensen can only flush and duck his head until Jared rubs his nose against Jensen’s own in a true, Eskimo kiss fashion. It’s goofy and intimate…and Jensen’s not aware he’s smiling until Jeff reappears to comment:

‘‘There’s our happy baby boy. Ready for a bath?’’

Jensen can’t help but nod weakly. He feels drained and sluggish. A wash sounds good – aside from having Jeff or Jared brush his teeth with a little toothbrush or the morning wipe downs with a wash cloth, he hasn’t had a proper wash since he got here. Hell, Jensen doesn’t think he got bathed in Burbank after the initial removal of body hair, but he doesn’t dwell on that as Jared is already to tugging the un-snapped bodysuit up and over his head.

He’s completely naked now, though it doesn’t bother him as much as it should. Maybe it’s because both of these men had already seen and cleaned his most private areas, that something as simple as getting fully naked seems trivial. Either way, Jensen merely rubs at his raw-feeling eyes and notes that he’s not the only one naked in the bathroom – Jeff is, too. The eldest of the trio is stepping into the huge bath with a flex of bare skin and muscles that makes Jensen feel inadequate in comparison.

‘‘Here you go, off to Papa now, Jensey,’’ Jared chirrups, gently passing him over to a seated Jeff’s outstretched hands.

Jeff’s hold is firm and safe as he lowers Jensen down into the blissfully warm water. Jensen lets out a soft sigh; this feels wonderful, nothing like the quick, cold showers he had scrounged from community pool centers. He doesn’t even feel a niggle of intrusion or panic when he’s lowered completely with his backside perched on the slippy skin feel of Jeff’s thigh. In fact, Jensen’s too busy wiggling his toes underwater and eyeing the colorful, floating toys bobbing about in the bubbles.

This…this is nice.

Apart of him wants to grab the chubby, red toy crab floating his way, but before he can do so a long, tanned leg steps into the bath. The water sloshes a little, leaving Jensen to sputter and catch sight of rather well-endowed parts of Jared he’d rather not see again. Such a visually scarring sight is over quickly, though, when Jeff assaults his face with a damp wash cloth.

‘‘Better, sweetheart?’’ Jeff asks.  
  
His face does feel better now that it’s clean and free of snot and tear tracks. Still, he shoots the hairy man a half-hearted scowl before his attention is diverted, again. This time it’s Jared. The big dork has a light hold on Jensen’s left foot with one hand while the other has one of the toys – a yellow starfish, complete with tiny black eyes and wide smile – in the other. He doesn’t get what’s happening until Jared begins to prod the starfish lightly at the sole of his captured foot.

‘‘Nom, nom, nom!’’ Jared sounds out with a grin.

Jeff lets out a theatrical gasp. ‘‘Oh, no. He’s eating your toes!’’

A giggle leaves Jensen before he can stop it and, before he can overthink it all, Jared is nudging the toy crab into his hands. He grabs the water slick toy and holds it to his chest, unsure and a little bit awkward. Still, Jared continues to ‘attack’ and the puppy-like exuberance is a wonderful, infectious distraction to simply escape. So, Jensen gives in – he expels a squeal of amusement and slaps the crab down into the water with a small splash.

It’s somewhat therapeutic, in a way.

But, he tells himself, he’ll stop in a little while. At least, until after the bath.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever thankful for the reviews and support.

It’s pretty easy to just simply… _be_.

At least, that’s what Jensen discovers after his first instance of goofing about in the bath tub. It's been three or so days since then, and he enjoys the lack of thinking or worrying when he lets go and goes with the flow of Jared’s or Jeff’s instigated, babying action or play. Sure, he still feels his face flare with heat and gut twist with embarrassment, but it’s not as suffocating as it used to feel. In fact, there is something a little addictive about giving in and going along, even if it’s just for an hour or two a day.

Jensen tries to tell himself that, maybe, it’s the good food, decent sleep and friendly atmosphere that makes him somewhat content to the Padalecki-Morgan combo style of babying. That or, it’s until he finds a way to bail on this entire experience. However, deep down, he can feel the faint flicker falseness in his reasoning…

After all, he was currently enjoying himself an awful lot for a twenty-three year old man.

And, Jensen idly wondered, what kind of man found entertainment in balancing on a soccer ball? ‘Cause that was what he was currently doing right now. He’s out in the garden, underneath the late afternoon sunshine, clad only in a diaper and t-shirt while laying tummy-down on a ball bigger than his torso.

It’s mindless but fun to roll back or forth on the soccer ball and brush his fingers through the grass. A few times Jensen breaks his rolling spree in favour of lifting his legs and sticking his arms out, attempting to balance solely on his stomach. He can only hum to himself and listen to the sounds of Jeff clunking about in the far wooden building at the bottom of the garden. Jared said it was Jeff’s private workshop and, from the sounds emitting from within, the man’s tidying up his tools of the trade.

He’s so caught up in his activity that he barely notices he’s got company. It’s only when Jensen is attempting to balance on his stomach again and it, very nearly, goes horribly wrong that he realizes Jared is back. The massive man makes his appearance known by hooking a finger into the back of Jensen’s diaper when he rolls a little bit too forward, his nose mere inches from face-planting the grass.

‘‘Careful, baby boy,’’ Jared chuckles, lightly tugging him back.

Jensen finds himself rolling back from the movement and completely off the smooth, synthetic leather of the stitched ball until his padded bottom meets the ground. He’s just about to tip his head back to see where Jared is exactly when the big man flops down beside him and, suddenly, rolls towards him. Jensen’s pretty sure he’s about to be flattened, but no. Jared just scoops him up to his chest, keeps him tucked close and rolls sideways again.  
  
Everything is a blur of grass, blue sky and the plaid of Jared’s shirt – and Jensen only realizes he’s laughing when his pacifier falls out. The loss of the rubber teat in his mouth makes him frown yet, before he can dwell on his attachment, the long-haired male is settling Jensen on his chest and distracting him with a dance of fingers against his sides. He yelps, cheeks flushing, and practically head-butt’s the larger male on the collar bone.

Unfazed, Jared merely pecks his cheek. ‘‘Such a ticklish Lil' One,’’ he sniggers.

Jensen lets out a soft huff and turns his face into the curve of Jared’s neck. The man begins to talk, something about good weather and eating dinner outside tonight, and starts stroking Jensen’s back. It’s soothing, almost like everything else right now. He’s warm and comfy and he inhales. Jared smells something like soap and vanilla mingled with the crisp, clean smell of the orange blossom scented laundry detergent he uses. The latter is familiar, comforting fragrance that Jensen has long linked to the sensation of soft clothing and cozy bedding.

He’s not even aware that he’s yawning until Jared begins to hum. It’s a gentle, vibrating tone; one that Jensen doesn’t recognize outside of having previously heard it from Jared before. The shaggy-haired male always seems to croon this particular, non-worded tune during Jensen’s pre-bedtime bottle. He affiliates the sound to being put to bed, but it’s still sunny and far too early for bed.

Yet, it’s pretty hard to resist the lull of relaxation, and Jensen finds his eyes closing the moment Jared cups the back of his head. There is something very easy about this: flopped out on Jared’s chest with the sun warming his body and long fingers massaging his scalp. He snuffles, drifting and dozing, a small part of his mind missing the soothing weight of his pacifier on his tongue and the soft feeling of Honey’s fur between his fingers.

Jensen finds himself making do with sucking his thumb; an act he’s barely aware of doing while his other hand reaches up and curls around something feathery-soft. It takes a few twirls of his fingers and a bump of his hand against the obvious curve of an ear when he vaguely realizes he’s playing with the long, silky strands of Jared’s hair. He doesn’t care, doesn’t even feel embarrassed over his dozy actions, far too mellow to care –

Until a prickly whisper of scruffy facial hair tickles the exposed skin of where his t-shirt had rucked up his back. He’s barely noted the scratchy feel that _must_ be Jeff when the man presses soft lips against his spine. Jensen’s just about to crack open one eye when Jeff blows a sloppy sounding raspberry onto his back, jolting him into full, sudden consciousness with an audible squeak.

The laughter from Jeff is deep and raucous as Jensen scrambles upright, one hand upon Jared’s firm chest while the other rubs his eye. Jared immediately accommodates the change, his huge hands curling around Jensen’s sides, like he’s scared that the Modified male is going to topple off. Jensen would’ve frowned at the delicate treatment, (he’s not _that_ fragile) but he’s too busy noting the smear of spittle he had accidentally wiped onto his face from his… _thumb sucking_.

‘‘Messy, fella,’’ Jeff clucks, amused, his calloused knuckles brushing Jensen’s drool away.

‘‘Jeff,’’ Jared sighs, displeasure evident. ‘‘He just dropped off to sleep.’’

‘‘Then it’s a good thing I intervened, babe. If he has a nap now, he won’t sleep tonight.’’

Scowling, Jensen tries to pretend his face is red from the sun and not the attention. Either way, his half-hearted glare receives him a wink from Jeff and a pat upon his bare thighs from Jared. The latter garners his attention back to the man who’s torso he is currently straddling, and he bites his lip. Awkward and nervous.

‘‘What d’you say, sweetpea, you want a nap?’’ Jared asks him.

Jensen blinks, his brain still a little fuzzed from his abrupt wake-up. Naps have been a common occurrence since he had said ‘yes’ to the couple. It wasn’t something he minded much; a post-lunchtime doze had been a good way to escape from Jeff or Jared’s besotted looks. Yet, now, Jensen notes today he hadn’t been set down for his brief sleep today, but he doesn’t see the big deal in it: he doesn’t _need_ naps to begin with.

‘‘Oh-ho, yes you do.’’

Ah, Jensen stills. Had he said the last part aloud? He must have, given Jeff reply and Jared current soft expression.

‘‘But it’s too late for naps now,’’ Jeff continues, his fingers lightly tickling the underside of Jensen’s chin. ‘‘Dinner’ll be in a few hours and before you know it, it’ll be sleepy-time, baby boy. So, let’s leave Daddy to make some delicious food while we go explore the garden, yes? ’’

‘‘Jeff…’’ Jared sounds amused, but unsure.

What the brunette is unsure about, Jensen doesn’t know. Jared probably thinks Jensen will be cranky, or something equally babyish. Internally, he snorts at the idea, and carefully slides off the firm warmth of Jared’s torso and onto the cool blades of grass. Exploring the garden would be fun – although he knows there is nothing really to explore or escape to, he had long ago spotted the surrounding fields of Jeff and Jared’s property.

‘‘C’mon, buddy,’’ Jeff says, getting to his feet. ‘‘I’m going to show you all the pretty flowers.’’

‘‘I like how you’ve dismissed me to kitchen duty,’’ Jared grumps, fake pout obvious.

‘‘Jensen, say: buh-bye, Daddy,’’ Jeff sing-songs, bending low in his posture to clasp and wave Jensen’s hand towards Jared.

There’s something about seeing Jeff, rugged and tough-looking as he is, being almost as goofy and sappy as Jared that makes Jensen smile. It isn’t the first time he’s seen Jeff be this way, but it feels like it. Everything feels so new since he began going with the flow of things…

Jensen doesn’t even notice that he’s grinning and still waving at Jared when Jeff’s released his hand.

* * *

 

‘‘Up and out we go,’’ Jared says, gleefully.

He smoothly steps out the bathtub with Jensen cradled to his chest and, uncaring of his own wet state, bundles Jensen into the fluffy, hooded towel. It’s an adorable, fluffy yellow item with a sewn orange beak and black eyes atop the hood. Jared can feel his face ache at the cute image Jensen makes in the duck-style towel and, instantly, he regrets not ordering the other, hooded animal-style towels.

‘‘C’mon, my little duckling,’’ he continues to titter. ‘‘Let’s get you dry and into your jammies.’’

Naked and dripping across the bathroom tiles, Jared can feel Jensen’s lazy, half-lidded stare upon him. He glances down, his focus latching onto a set of green eyes peeking out from under the hooded rim. There is no embarrassment, confusion, or irritation on Jensen’s face. His and Jeff’s boy is always pliant, pink skinned and pleased post-bath time. It always makes Jared wonder if they should’ve bathed Jensen sooner, for its obvious the little guy relishes and relaxes over the evening activity they added into their Little’s routine a few days prior.

Jared idly rubs at Jensen’s back, working some of the water off as he walks out the bathroom and into the hallway. Routine is good and, like early afternoon naps and evening baths, Jensen’s unspoken routine after a bath involves Jared taking his baby boy into the master bedroom. He isn’t sure how it came about, but after the first bath of having Jeff dry and diaper Jensen on their overly large bed, Jared simply followed suit.

Still…It doesn’t matter that Jensen’s already gone through this a total of three-to-four times, the Modified male still cranes his neck to look about the master bedroom upon entry. Jared simply smiles at the constant curiosity and wonders if Jensen is looking for something in particular. There isn’t anything remotely interesting about his and Jeff’s bedroom with it’s neutral décor and fitted wardrobes…

Except, maybe, the bed.

If there was one thing Jeff and Jared had splurged on, it was with an overly large, bespoke bed. They’re both pretty big guys and, well…yeah. But being naked and thinking of Jeff and their bed isn’t an appropriate thing to do with Jensen in his arms – and Jared distracts himself from recalling heated memories with his husband by looking at the array of baby supplies laid out upon the charcoal grey and duck-egg blue trim comforter.

‘‘Looks like Papa thought ahead,’’ Jared murmurs, carefully setting Jensen down on the bed. He’s grateful for Jeff’s forethought of saving Jared the trouble of fetching items and, knowing the older man is tidying up after dinner, feels pretty damn lucky at having such a caring husband. ‘‘Now,’’ he says, ‘‘you stay put, Jensey. Daddy needs a towel…’’

And, with that, Jared watches the way Jensen all but _flops_ and _burrows_ into the linen-silk comforter before edging into the en-suite bathroom.  
  
It takes only a few seconds to grab a towel for himself and step back into the bedroom, but Jared would’ve kicked himself if Jensen accidentally rolled off the bed and hurt himself. Logically, he knows the mini-adult in sturdier than an actually baby or toddler, but that doesn’t stop his over protective tendencies. Still, Jared wastes no time with scrubbing himself dry and slipping on a pair of baggy, cotton sleep-shorts. He’s in the middle of tying the drawstring and slipping up onto the bed when Jensen lets out a soft, cubbish sound of drowsiness.

Chuckling, he slips a pacifier between pouty lips and goes about drying Jensen off, limb by limb, digit by digit. The boy is sleepy from his lack of nap and loose-limbed from the bath. Effortlessly, Jared tucks Jensen into a new diaper and dabs moisturizing lotion into his body. As much as Jared enjoys playing with Jensen in the tub, he finds a great pleasure in pampering. He isn’t the only one; Jensen might flush or look away, but his baby practically _melts_ when Jared begins to massage the pink baby lotion onto the soles of tiny, calloused feet.

‘‘Nice, huh?’’ he asked.

Confirmation came in the form of Jensen exhaling a deep, blissful sigh.

‘‘I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,’’ Jared went on with a grin. He alternated between both left and right foot, making small circles on the ball of each foot and sweeping a strong thumb across the arches. Already, after baths and frequent application of lotion, Jared can see the change in Jensen’s little feet – the dry skin from old blisters are absent and tough callouses are softening up nicely. For all that Jensen was smooth skinned and baby-sized, he was still a young, adult man. Out of everything, it was Jensen’s feet that hinted towards a life of ill-fitting shoes and, assumingly, long, long walks upon the streets.

Jared finished his little massage session with a kiss upon each sole and a cheered, ‘‘done!’’

He released Jensen’s feet and was mid-grab towards the footie pajamas Jeff had set out when _something_ poked him in the stomach. At first, he stalled, but barely noticed it as he pulled the pajamas closer. It was only when the sensation came again, (a little harder this time) that he realized he was being prodded with a newly moisturized toe.

‘‘Yes?’’ Jared queried, surprised yet amused.  
  
This was new behavior from Jensen. Still, the little guy didn’t say anything. Green eyes just looked nervous, shy, and Jared found his hand being tapped by Jensen’s foot as a form of reply.

What on earth was…? _Oh._

‘‘I see,’’ Jared laughed. ‘‘You want a longer foot rub, hmm?’’

Jensen did nod at that, a faint smile hidden behind his pacifier and tiny toes wiggling. Jared beamed and complied with the adorable wish, his fingers and thumbs gently applying pressure on his boy’s feet. Having Jensen ask for something, even if it was non-verbally, was improvement. Although…

‘‘You’re worse than your papa,’’ Jared cooed. ‘‘First time I gave that man a back rub, he kept pretending his shoulder was still hurt,’’ he began, deciding to talk and soothe Jensen’s feet at the same time. ‘‘You see, Jensey, Papa pulled a muscle for being stubborn over moving one of his heavier pieces of furniture. He’d keep playin’ the old man card, saying his shoulder was sore, and I didn’t even realize he was faking it until a month later…’’

* * *

 

Yawning, big and wide, Jensen stretched.

Frequent baths and, recent increase in foot rubs turned him into jelly. No joke. He had eased up a little around the constant kissing and touching from Jeff and Jared, but he hadn’t expected to look forward to the two activities that involved prolonged touch. Yet, here he was, feeling boneless and dozy after a good scrub in the bath and a heavenly foot rub, courtesy of Jared.

Even now, almost two hours since Jared had turned Jensen into mush, he remained unbelievably mellow. All Jensen could do was blink sleepily between the documentary about otters on TV and the white patterns upon the blue footie-pajamas that adorned his body. Lazily, Jensen supposed the white patterns were meant to be _bears_ – but he couldn’t concentrate, not when he was so lax despite Jeff’s nuzzling.

‘Cause that is what the greying man was currently doing to him.

Jensen was aware he must’ve smelt good after his bath; he was practically the poster child for the _Johnson & Johnson_ Company with the baby products his body had been assaulted with. But still, Jeff didn’t _need_ to bury his nose into Jensen’s No-More-Tear’s scented hair while watching TV. If Jensen wasn’t so comfy and relaxed on the snuggly guy’s lap, he would’ve gave him a warning slap…especially when he knew Jeff wouldn’t get mad.

If there was one thing Jensen had grown assured of over the passing days, it was the fact both Jared and Jeff weren’t acting nice. The pair really were nice, simple as. Nice and goofy and, always, tender with touches –

A clink of glass meeting wood diverted Jensen’s musings. He blinked, feeling a little more awake, and watched Jared place two bottles of beer upon the coffee table. Obviously, one of those alcoholic beverages weren’t for him, but looking at the drip of condensation rolling down the bottle, he felt thirsty. Luckily enough, Jensen hadn’t been left out on Jared’s trip to the kitchen and, although it wasn’t beer, the plastic baby bottle of apple juice was more than welcome.

He practically dove for the proffered bottle and, probably, would’ve dropped off Jeff’s lap if it wasn’t for the man’s arm curled around his stomach. That didn’t stop Jensen from wriggling from the loose hold, his arms hugging the bottle close and feet hitting the floor. He trotted off just as Jared sat down beside Jeff, eager to drink his juice in peace and not see the goo-goo eyes both men made at him when they thought Jensen was being ‘cute’, or something.

Not that getting out of sight stopped their comments, Jensen noted.

‘‘Silly thing, no need to be bashful,’’ Jared said, amused.

Jeff sounded just as smiley. ‘‘Leave our little man be, babe.’’

‘‘Okay, okay…’’  
  
Jensen came to a stop around the back of the couch, his eyes catching sight of the back of Jared’s shaggy head of hair and Jeff’s broad shoulders and stretched out arms. He wasn’t bashful, he just – just liked having some privacy. It didn’t matter that the couple had already seen him slurp down innumerable bottles of milk already, but this was different. Juice or water bottles weren’t fed to him, and Jensen liked the minor independence of holding the chunky, stubby plastic in his stupidly small hands and not being watched.

Although, it was pretty awkward to drink without help. He had to hold it with two hands and tip it back without dribbling it everywhere or choking on the flow. It also made him breathe a little too heavily through his nose and, dear lord, it would take practice to not sound like a snuffling, asthmatic piglet when drinking. That said, Jensen wasn’t used to baby bottles – and didn’t plan to get used to them – which was expected:  
  
He _wasn’t_ a baby. 

‘‘ – behind the couch, isn’t he?’’ Jared’s soft drawl was followed by a faint creak of movement from the couch that indicated movement. It was Jeff, though, who checked. The older man turned around to smile at Jensen who, inwardly, cursed at his predictable hiding spot, his lapse of attention making the chilled apple juice slip out his mouth and trickle down his chin.

‘‘Yup,’’ Jeff confirmed, his eyes alight with fondness.

Cheeks reddening, Jensen was ready to turn his back and make his displeasure known when Jeff returned back to facing the TV. Assuming he was left alone to finish his juice, he didn’t see Jeff stretching back over the couch to him until it was too late. The sneaky male swiped Jensen’s chin with one of the thin, muslin cloths that Jared sometimes used instead of bibs. Yet, as soon as Jeff attacked him, it was over, and Jensen was left glaring at the back of the man’s head.

Jensen huffed, purposely distancing himself from further reach, and attempted to finish quenching his thirst. He sucked down the crisp liquid, his attention less on his loud breathing as he drank and more on the two men on the couch. Low, deep murmurs and the tell-tale sound of exchanged kisses emitted from the pair, and Jensen was ready to ignore such lovey-dovey actions until Jared barked out a laugh, his voice more audible.

‘‘Get off, you sap. I’ve got to check-in with work.’’

He didn’t listen to Jeff’s good natured response, his feet already shuffling around the couch until he was closest to Jared. He had started to wonder if Jeff was the main money maker as a carpenter, yet the overhearing Jared mention work had him curious. Jensen knew all he had to do was ask what Jared did for a living but, like many things, he couldn’t find the words. Instead, the Modified male lingered and watched for a hint as to what Jared did for a career, his teeth worrying away at the plastic teat of his bottle.

The answer didn’t come forth straight away, and Jensen was left frowning as Jared opened one of the drawers under the coffee table. He was used to seeing Jeff or Jared dip into little cupboards to fetch the spare TV remote or magazine. However, on this occasion, Jared reached in to remove a sturdy, black laptop bag. The long-haired man unzipped the item and pulled out a thin, silver-brushed laptop that wasn’t the usual, slightly worn but modern one Jensen had seen either men use.

Perhaps, Jensen concluded, this was Jared’s work laptop? Maybe Jared was a computer guy, or –

‘‘Hey, nosey,’’ Jared greeted him, cutting his theories short. ‘‘You okay?’’

Ignoring the wet squeak of air escaping the teat of his bottle, Jensen fully accepted the stroke of Jared’s large, warm hand over the top of his head. If anything, he might’ve leaned up into the touch – purely to look at the glowing laptop screen, of course. At least, that is what Jensen reasoned with himself. Not that it mattered, anyway. Jared seemed to be flying through a series of emails with one hand while the other continued to muss up Jensen’s hair.

‘‘Of course Jensen’s okay,’’ Jeff’s low tone came from the other end of the couch. ‘‘Aren’t you, buddy? I think you’re just wondering what Daddy’s up to, huh?’’

Jensen peered around the arm of the couch to meet Jeff’s crinkle-eyed smile. Both Jared and Jeff seemed to be damn mind readers at times. Either that or, Jensen was an open book with his thoughts and emotions. Whatever the case, he hoped it was neither and that both older men just had lucky guesses.

‘‘Boring stuff, that’s what,’’ Jared supplies with a groan.

‘‘Which also means editorial work,’’ Jeff chimes in. ‘‘Daddy fixes up words and stuff for a book company,’’ he elaborates after misinterpreting Jensen’s blank expression as something lost, not surprised. ‘‘He’s a bit of a writing whizz, too, you know – ’’

‘‘I wrote three children’s books about a talking dog,’’ Jared snorts. ‘‘That’s hardly a ‘writing whizz’, babe.’’

Jeff waggles his eyebrows and says something complimentary to his husband who, in turn, hits him with the hand that had been previously opening emails. Jensen just watches the exchange, amused at the couple’s bickering as Jared’s other hand continues to comb through the short strands of Jensen’s hair. Soothed, he only half-listens to the pair and goes back to sucking his empty bottle in replacement of his pacifier.

Well, until Jared plucks the bottle from him. ‘‘Ah-ah, don’t do that, baby.’’

‘‘Mhm,’’ Jeff adds-on. ‘‘You could get a tummy ache.’’

Jensen feels the urge to whine – like an honest-to-god _whine_ – build up in his throat, but he holds back. Barely. He doesn’t know where such an impulse came from, yet he doesn’t dwell on it. How can he when Jared’s already pushing a pacifier into his mouth and Jeff’s clapping his hands, calling him over?

‘‘C’mere, sweetheart. How about you, Honey-bunny and I read a story while Daddy does some work?’’


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all your reviews are lovely, thanks!

To Jared, the days seem to fly by and, before he knew it, they had Jensen in their lives for little over two weeks.

Life with a baby of their own isn’t hectic, just complete and content. Both he and Jeff weren’t in any rush to return their full focus back on work, but they do find time to keep on top of their careers. It was all about balance and timing, Jared discovered. Like, come early morning, Jeff would tinker about in his workshop, or Jared, during Jensen’s afternoon nap, would tap away on his laptop, completing editorial tasks for the publishing company he worked for. It all went so easy, so smoothly – despite Jensen’s fluctuating attitude.

After that first bath their Little One had come out of his shell a bit, but not wholly. Jensen would sometimes engage in play when coaxed and, in other instances, looked torn. The little male truly was, deep down, a lost, little boy that happened to be adorably shy.

Still, both he and Jeff were dealing with that aspect with slow, encouraging steps. Yet, with the passage of time sweeping by, other areas of life came to the forefront of being addressed. One key issue in particular happened to be in the form of text messages from friends who, used to hearing from Jared or Jeff on an almost daily basis, seemed to be concerned from the couple’s lack of contact.

It was understandable, really. The combined selection of his and Jeff’s friends were a close-knit group: they met up weekly, spouses and littles in tow. They were basically a larger, extended family to each other…and Jared felt bad for not telling them the good news sooner.

God, he was such a wuss. The main reason he was so reluctant to inform his friends came mainly down to the fact they had, technically, obtained Jensen through the downright immoral Adoption Agency in Burbank. He didn’t want to upset his extended family or make them mad. All of his coupled friends, from Milo and Alona to Tom and Mike, had a consensual, Modified adult baby of their own – or, in the case of Misha and Vicki, had two. The consensual aspect was the one thing they all stuck strongly by when it came to gaining Littles.

Sweeping the hair back from his eyes, Jared groaned and glared at his cell phone when a shadow fell over him.  
  
‘‘You’re overthinking it, love.’’

Looking up from his location upon the decking steps he occupied, Jared shot his husband a bland expression before looking around his form for Jensen. Jeff had previously been picking flowers with their boy in the warm, early summer sunshine but, now, Jensen seemed content to waddle along the flowerbeds with the toy bunny, Honey, dangling from his fist. He was content to watch Jensen, let his troubles dissolve…until Jeff flicked him on the ear.

Jared let out an unmanly yelp.

‘‘You’re sulking and panicking for no reason,’’ Jeff told him, smiling but firm. ‘‘Really, babe, they’ve been your friends forever,’’ he added, bending down just a little to drop a sympathetic kiss to the corner of Jared’s mouth. ‘‘I told Jim – ’’

‘‘Jim doesn’t care unless we’re happy,’’ Jared numbly interjected.  
  
It was true, though. Jim Beaver was a gruff but friendly old man who had taught Jeff carpentry and, later, went into business together. A few years back, when his and Jeff’s search for a baby hit a bleak moment, Jim had made it quite obvious that all they had to do was ask and, legal or illegal, he’d help them out with getting a little one to make them happy.

It had been a sweet offer. Sweet but creepy.

‘‘Also told Sam,’’ Jeff continued, and Jared perked up.

‘‘What! When?’’ he sputtered. Sam Ferris was, well, she was Jeff’s friend and the main contender when it came to disagreeing to the non-con process of bought babies. If Jeff had told Sam… Jared gulped. He loved the woman like a mother and the thought of her disowning them over this stung.

Jeff seemed to be grinning, though, his tone casual. ‘‘Few days back.’’

‘‘Did you lie to her about Burbank?’’

‘‘No,’’ Jeff huffed, affronted. ‘‘Told her the truth, the same thing I told Jim. She understood, sympathized…she honestly admitted she was surprised we hadn’t gone to an A.B. Adoption Agency before, given how long and badly we’ve been searching. In fact,’’ Jeff shot him a wink, ‘‘she praised us. She said it wasn’t ideal or suitable, but we saved Jensen from being ‘broken-in’ or whatever Pellegrino does to make the little ones complacent. Plus, we did _ask_ Jensen…try not to forget that.’’

Jared remained silent, stunned and relieved. If strict, bad-ass Sam was fine, then the others – _Oh_ , they wouldn’t be pissed at all. Jared felt inexplicably lighter and good. He didn’t think twice about standing up to bear hug his husband, crush their bodies and mouths together and, very nearly, forgot about a certain someone’s sweet, innocent green eyes that might’ve spotted such a sudden, heated display.

Very nearly, that is. Jared’s brain caught up with his body when Jeff lightly pinched his denim-clad ass in silent warning. He pulled back instantly and glanced over in Jensen’s direction, grateful that their little man seemed to be preoccupied with watching a bug of some sort scuttle along the fence.

‘‘Well, uh,’’ Jared stalled, enthusiasm swirling about in his gut. ‘‘I’ll just head on in and give ‘em a call.’’

‘‘You’ll be fine, send my love and say we’ll plan a meet-up soon.’’

Nodding, Jared clambered up the steps with a grin. He trotted across the decking and towards the patio doors when his phone let out a noticeable tune, signalling he had a text. It wasn’t such an odd occurrence in itself, but the recipient stated it was from Jeff. Halting by the patio doors, he spared a glance to his husband in question. The man was walking back to Jensen while pocketing his phone and throwing a smile over his shoulder at Jared.

Curious, he swiped open the message and raised an eyebrow. It was a picture, one of himself asleep on the sofa with Jensen dozing on his chest. Jared honestly didn’t know when such an image was taken, but it had to have been during the early days of Jensen’s arrival. At least, that is what he assumed given the fact it had been around that time frame which Jared began to implement Jensen’s afternoon naps via cuddles on the couch.

‘‘That kinda softened Sam up as well!’’ Jeff called out to him, face smug. ‘‘Pretty sure it’ll melt further hearts if you forward it.’’

Sneaky photo snapper, Jared thought, lovingly. He’d totally get Jeff back for that. Everyone knew how unflattering Jared was when asleep…

* * *

 

‘‘Annnnd…done!’’

Jeff cheered, playfully snatching Jensen up and holding him aloft. Beaming, he looked up at his handy work and thought he did a good job with getting Jensen dressed for his first outing. His and Jared’s Little One was clad in khaki shorts, the elasticated waist visible over the short-sleeved, cream bodysuit that was adorned with a small, smiling red apple. The words ‘cute to the core’ where placed underneath the image, and Jeff wholly agreed with the statement.

He tucked Jensen back in his arms and lightly bopped the cartoon bumblebee that decorated the yellow pacifier in the boy’s mouth, eliciting a smile. Very cute, indeed, Jeff thought before heading towards the living room. Jensen seemed to return the affection, albeit shyly, by patting at Jeff’s unshaven cheek. This action, be it the patting of his beard or curl of fingers in Jared’s locks, seemed to be a growing new development, and Jeff wholly encouraged it by kissing his little man’s palm.

‘‘Happy and raring to go shoppin’, sunshine?’’ Jeff asked.

Jensen didn’t verbally reply outside of a small, soft noise, but that was okay. Jeff chose not to comment on the glint of nervousness in those green eyes and opted to affectionately pat his son’s padded rear. He didn’t want to look too closely into nothing, especially when today was meant to be a good day of spoiling his and Jared’s little one rotten.

After all, his husband had been a giddy mess of nerves since yesterday. The long phone conversations and talk with his friends had clearly erased Jared’s worry upon receiving congratulations. Jeff had been half-tempted to say, _‘‘I told you so,’’_ when Jared informed him of such but, instead, opted to laugh and kiss the younger man’s dimples before suggesting a much needed shopping trip.  
  
Heaven only knew that they needed more diapers…

…And clothing, and toys and many other things to fit Jensen’s small-self. Besides, it was one thing to get groceries delivered last week, but Jensen needed more things than what they had. Plus, Jeff mused, it would be a good way to see how Jensen was around the prying eyes of strangers before introducing him to his and Jared’s boisterous friends-turned-family.

But, before they could leave, they just needed Jared to stop going into overdrive.

‘‘Jeff, where’s the spare notepad? I should make a list of things we need.’’

Smirking into the golden-brown fluff of Jensen’s hair, Jeff replied. ‘‘Left bookshelf, below your mom’s vase and next to –’’

‘‘Can you pass it over, please?’’

Amused, Jeff rolled his eyes at the sight of Jared standing by the arm of the couch and triple-checking Jensen’s diaper bag. He was pretty sure Jared had wrote a list last night in bed, but he’d long learnt not to question the method in Jared’s brand of madness. Still, that didn’t stop him from whispering into Jensen’s ear.

‘‘Daddy’s not always like this, I promise.’’

Jensen let out a soft laugh from behind his pacifier at the comment, and Jeff grinned. He stepped up to the built-in shelves of the living room and plucked out the small, wire-spiral notebook that resided against the large, free-standing photo frame. Feeling playful, Jeff tossed the flimsy pad of paper over to Jared, expertly whacking the other man on the shoulder. The action earned him a good natured glare from his husband, complete with a raised, middle-finger salute.

Chuckling, he watched Jared bend down to retrieve the thrown item, taking in the delicious sight that his husband’s backside made in thin, dark-grey cargo shorts. Jeff could’ve continued to stare if it hadn’t been for the wiggle of Jensen against his chest. He turned his focus back to the curious boy in his arms who, apparently, seemed to be trying to take a glimpse at the photo frame Jeff had previously brushed past.

‘‘You like the doggies, hm?’’ Jeff tilted his head towards the photograph. Jensen stretched his hand out, and Jeff stepped closer to let little fingers touch cool glass. ‘‘That’s my girl Bisou with Jared’s beauties, Harley and Sadie. They were real sweethearts, you would’ve loved them.’’

‘‘S’big,’’ Jensen noted, words garbled around his pacifier.

‘‘Mhm, sunshine. They were big but lovely.’’

‘‘Kinda like me,’’ Jared joined in.

Jeff snorted, his dark eyes drifting to the younger man bounding up beside him. ‘‘I suppose that’s true,’’ he deadpanned. ‘‘You drool enough like them.’’

‘‘Ignore Papa, Jensey. He’s being a lying, grumpy old man,’’ Jared crooned, his hand cupping Jensen’s cheek.

‘‘I’ll remember that ‘old man’ comment later.’’ Jeff mock-scowled.

‘‘Hey!’’

Lips twitching, Jeff pretended to ignore Jared’s animated protests and bounced Jensen a little higher in his arms. ‘‘Let’s leave stressy Daddy to finish his list and get a move on with shoppin’, yeah?’’

For that comment, Jeff nearly got his eye poked out by the scrap of paper that contained Jared’s scrawl.

‘‘It’s finished, by the way,’’ his husband huffed. ‘‘See?’’

‘‘Finally, it’s almost 10 O’clock and – ’’

‘‘Ah!’’ Jared cut-in. ‘‘You haven’t put socks on Jensen, Jeff.’’

Frowning, Jeff glanced towards the patio doors. ‘‘It’s more than warm enough for him to go without, babe.’’

‘‘I guess…’’

‘‘Plus, it isn’t like he has any shoes so…’’ he trailed off, only to bite back a curse at the spark that appeared in Jared’s eyes. ‘‘No,’’ Jeff rushed to fix. ‘‘No you don’t need to add that to the list, I can remember – now _move_ it, Jared.’’  
  
‘‘But – ’’

‘‘Grab the diaper bag, we’re going,’’ Jeff continued, his unoccupied hand moving to rest on the small of his husband’s back. He gave a light push, nudging the taller male forward with a smile on his lips and ticklish shake of Jensen’s silent laughter against his chest.

* * *

 

It was weird being away from the house and garden.

Jensen really hadn’t been able to keep up with the passage of time as strictly as he would’ve liked, but it felt like he had been in that environment _forever_. Between good meals, naptimes and constant babying it was easy to lose track of the days. Both men were funny, kind and, dare he admit it, relaxing. Jared and Jeff didn’t ask anything from him in the ways Jensen had expected all people to do.

The pair weren’t anything like his old family, foster parents or sleazy employers. Jeff and Jared appeared to have no motivation for their loving actions and pampering; they didn’t have a biological responsibly to him or get money from the state to care. Yet, so far, all the couple wanted to do was keep him clean, fed and happy. It was bizarre and nice, and Jensen hated to realize he had often begun to wonder _why_ he wanted to escape the duo in the first place.

He kept stamping the thoughts and feelings revolving around that down.

It had been working, too…until Jeff and Jared mentioned going out. Only then did Jensen’s mind whisper that this shopping trip would be the perfect chance to escape. Thinking about that made him feel sickly and nervous. He tried to distract himself during the car ride by clambering onto his knees upon Jared’s lap to look out the backseat window. The man left him to it, merely steadying Jensen by the waist as Jeff drove them past fields and suburban properties until they reached the more built-up area of the town known as Bloomingfield.

They neared a modestly large department store that, already in the morning hour, looked busy. Jeff parked swiftly in the half-full parking lot while Jensen watched and worried away at his toy rabbit’s ear. The soft texture calmed his racing heart and muddled thoughts, he barely even noticed Jared was chatting away until the man stepped out of the car with him.

‘‘ – should’ve used the SUV.’’

Jeff laughed, locking up the car. ‘‘What you got against the Impala?’’

‘‘Nothing, just…’’ Jared fished a piece of paper out the pocket of his plaid shirt. ‘‘We gotta get a highchair, baby seat, stroller an’ safety gate, plus clothes and toys!’’

‘‘You can order the stroller online and have it delivered, hun. Everything else will fit and bring home today…quit fussing.’’

‘‘Fine, fine.’’

Jensen watched the exchange with a hidden smile, liking the way the pair talked and teased each other. It was nice to be reminded not all couples fought like his parents used to do. He let their talk wash over him as they walked into the store and peeked at the list in Jared’s hand, only to suppress a squeak. There were way more things written down on there. Jensen couldn’t help but suck a little harder on his pacifier, jittery and guilty. It kept him silent. But, still…he doubted he even had half of the stuff Jared and Jeff planned to get him when he had been a _real_ baby.

He didn’t have time to mull these things over, not when they stepped into the cool, air-conditioned store. The place was huge and clearly focused on family and children given the displays. Jensen continued to gaze about from Jared’s arms, vaguely aware of Jeff sloping off. He would’ve followed where the bearded man was off to, but he was too busy eyeing the selection of shoppers that all seemed to have pint-sized companions, be they natural children or Modified Littles, running around their ankles.

‘‘C’mon, sweetpea,’’ Jared patted Jensen’s back, ‘‘where shall we go to first?’’

The store was all so new and hectic – similar to how Jensen’s bouncing feelings surrounding Jared and Jeff happened to be. Sighing, he curled his arms tighter around Honey and pressed his face to Jared’s neck. Why couldn’t they have done this a week or so ago? Jensen would’ve been off like a shot and not feeling so conflicted and flayed open.

‘‘Don’t be shy, Jensey. How ‘bout we just have a little walk ‘round by the clothes till Papa comes back? He’s just gone ahead to buy some of the bigger, boring stuff.’’

He stayed where he was, quiet and snuffling at Jared’s neck, as the man began to move. Idly, he listened to the sound of other shoppers along with Jared’s running commentary. It was only after a short while that he peeled himself away from the older man’s neck, only to discover one of his hands had wormed up to fiddle with the longish, silky strands of Jared’s hair.

Jared seemed unfazed, though. ‘‘Look, kiddo, shoes. See any you like?’’

Reluctantly, Jensen looked down at the array of tiny shoes upon the display unit. They all different in style, from babyish Velcro straps to smart laces, and looked like comfy, quality items. Basically, the shoes looked like nothing Jensen had owned before. Hell, before he got captured his best pair of shoes had been held together with duct-tape. Still, he found his attention zeroing upon the black and white sneakers.

Velcro-straps be damned, they looked sturdy and reliable. If he had them when on the streets Jared wouldn’t have to spend so much time after baths softening the callouses on Jensen’s feet with that pink lotion.

‘‘Let’s see if they gotta size guide on these boxes,’’ Jared murmured, sliding the diaper bag off his shoulder before gently placing Jensen down beside it.

Instinctively, Jensen held onto the hem of Jared’s shirt as the man crouched down to open a selection of shoe boxes below the display cabinet. It took all of two (maybe three) minutes for Jensen to realize the opportunity presented to him. Jared was distracted and Jeff was still somewhere else and…  
  
And Jensen could escape, couldn’t he?

He could slink off, leave the store and find somewhere to hide in the town. It would be relatively easy to do. But _something_ unpleasant swirled in his stomach and tightened in his chest. Leaving meant a life back on the streets yet, hadn’t this been the moment he had been waiting for? Freedom from humiliating babying?

Numbly, he let go of Jared’s shirt. He half-expected the man to whirl around, but no. Jared was busy bemoaning poorly labelled boxes and didn’t even so much as twitch at the lack of touch. Unsure, Jensen could only take one step back, and another step, and another…

Next thing Jensen knew, he had Jared out of his sights and his back was brushing a row of clothes hanging from a rack. Palms sweating and body shaky, he rubbed them against his shorts before realizing both hands were empty and Honey – no, the _toy_. He must’ve dropped her – _it_ – during his creep across the store, and he didn’t know if it was the loss of the soft plushie, or what, but he didn’t feel very elated over his escape.

If anything, Jensen felt _bad_.

Like, not guilty-bad. Just plain and simple _awful_ type of bad. It was horrible and lonely and –

‘‘Oh, this is just precious!’’ a loud, feminine voice squawked. ‘‘Dianna, you see this? Doesn’t my ABE look beautiful?’’

‘‘Abe?’’ a new, less loud woman’s voice inquired.

‘‘A.B Babe …so, ABE!’’

‘‘Honestly, Maureen, stick with calling her a Little One like everybody else. ABE is far less catchy.’’

‘‘But that is so common –!’

Dilemma cut short via distraction, Jensen cut through the clothes rack he had been pressed against and headed towards the voices. He found two women tittering to each other on the other side, undoubtedly the voices. The middle-aged ladies weren’t alone, though, and the woman who Jensen had first heard was holding the hand of a rather glum-looking female adult baby.

Maybe it was curiosity or horror, but Jensen was rooted to the spot watching the pair literally play dress-up with the dubbed 'Little One' who clearly didn’t want to part-take. It was disturbing to witness, especially when the loud female clearly didn’t speak _to_ the adult baby and, instead, spoke _at_ the Modified human like some sort of toy. There was something materialistic about the accessory-like treatment, and nothing like how Jeff and Jared treated him.

Suddenly, Jensen realized that, for once, he was one of the lucky ones.

That is, until such a joyous, optimistic thought shrivelled away when a hand latched onto his wrist and tugged him out. He instantly knew that those hands didn’t belong to Jared or Jeff. These hands were thin and pinching and, belatedly, Jensen realized it was the loud woman’s friend – Dianna, was it? – yanking him forward.

‘‘Look at this little guy!’’

He winced at the screech and tried to pull away. The woman’s grip didn’t relent despite the weak hold and Jensen’s forceful pull. Weakling, he thought at himself, barely listening to the females. He was scared and angry at himself. This _couldn’t_ be happening. _No, no, no_. He’d only just realized how _good_ he had it with Jared and Jeff; how they didn’t treat him like a fashion accessory like that Little One with the two women.

Gulping, Jensen kicked out and let out a wail of terror, uncaring of his pride.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome, thanks for the reviews, poppets!

‘‘Oh my, this Little One isn’t very well trained.’’  
  
‘‘Wonder who he belongs to, he might be pretty but – ’’

‘‘What the – _Jensen?!_ ’’

The last voice cut through the nattering females in sharp, deep tone. It was so, so _familiar_ and _near_. Jensen knew it was Jeff way before he was able to see the man amongst the maze of clothes racks. He blinked back the warm blur of tears and, instinctively, raised his arms, wishing for those large, work-roughened to suddenly materialize and take him back to Dadd– _Jared_.

He really didn’t have to wait long, but it certainly felt like it. He had already been with the two women known as Diana and Maurine for a good fifteen or so minutes, putting up with their manhandling and talking about him like an object. Now, though, after hearing Jeff’s voice, the nanoseconds dragged on like hours and, just as Jensen felt his breath begin to catch, a set of long arms reached over the low clothes rack, the plastic hangers clattering together, and plucked him up. He twisted and latched onto Jeff like a leech, all but burrowing his face under the whiskery chin and _inhaling_ the unique mixed scent of coffee, fresh sawdust and _home_.

‘‘There you are,’’ Jeff exhaled heavily into his hair. ‘‘Thank – ’’

‘‘Is that baby yours?’’ Maurine queried, and Jensen clung on tighter. He felt Jeff startle at the question, his chin accidentally bumping against his forehead when looking towards the speaker. Jensen kept his face hidden, listening as the woman continued to speak. ‘‘Because he’s just gorgeous, I bet you he cost a lot. Do you mind telling me which agency you got him from so I can –?’’

‘‘No,’’ Jeff silenced her with a growl. ‘‘We – we didn’t buy him, Jensen’s…’’ his voice sounded thick, almost unsure, and most definitely angry, ‘‘he’s consensual. We’re traditionalists.’’

‘‘Uh, I see. I didn’t think that existed any more…’’

Even Jensen knew what Jeff had said was, technically, a lie. He had seen the stamped price they had paid for him on the file. Still, the woman’s response sounded awkward, almost shocked, and if she said anything further he didn’t get to hear given Jeff walking away. Jensen found himself thinking back on the first night Jeff and Jared asked him to be their baby – for his consent – and, only now, did he truly believe that the pair would’ve let him go if he had said no.

It had taken a while to learn, but it was clear Jeff and Jared were nothing but honest and kind. Jensen felt bad for ever thinking otherwise, let alone planning to deceive and escape. He snivelled apologetically, unsure if Jeff was evening listening or if his words were intelligible. Either way, it didn’t matter, not when Jeff stopped in his tracked and firmly, but gently, pulled Jensen away from him to look directly into his puffy green eyes.

‘‘Do you want to leave?’’ Jeff asked with a rasp.

And Jensen knew the man didn’t mean leave the store.  
  
Jeff was referring to leave as in to leave Jared and Jeff. Leave the babying, comfy living, good food. He could tell with the way Jeff’s face was pale and his expression was tight. Jensen felt that _bad_ feeling all over again as his hands twitch. He needed to…to touch the bristly, salt-and-pepper beard and make Jeff smile and forget about Jensen’s stupidity.

Instead, Jensen could only hiccup pathetically. ‘‘Nuh-no,’’ he tried to tell the man. ‘‘D-don’t wanna le-leave. M’s-sorry.’’

It seemed to work. That, or Jeff took pity on him. The older male instantly crushed Jensen’s smaller, Modified form against his chest.

‘‘You sure?’’ Jeff whispered into his ear. ‘‘You…you really sure?’’

Nodding frantic enough to make his brain shake, Jensen tried to make his opinion known outside of gasped sobs. The act seemed to work yet, before he could verbally try and string words together, a slap of shoes cut through the relative silence of the quiet shopping aisle. The noise was closely followed by a half-choked sound of relief and a voice that, in spite of its panicky pitch, was familiar.

‘‘Thank fuc – ’’ Jared barely caught the slip before poorly correcting, ‘‘ – _fudge_. You found him, Jeff.’’

‘‘It’s okay,’’ Jeff said. To who, Jensen could only guess. But the way Jared huddled in close and Jeff wrapped one arm around his husband, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was to Jared. The younger man looked shaky and unsure as he cupped Jensen’s face and Jeff continued to murmur, ‘‘everything’s okay. Perfect, babe, really. It’s okay.’’

Saying ‘okay’ was like some sort of secret code word or silent meaning given the way Jared started to smile. The towering, long-haired man sagged with relief, and Jensen slowly realized that they – Jared and Jeff – must’ve known about Jensen’s idiotic motive. Even just a little bit.

That only made Jensen feel thrice as bad, and he found himself extending his arms up towards Jared as a question fell from his lips.

‘‘A-are you an-angry?’’

The reply he gained was in union from both older males. It was a resounding, ‘‘no,’’ followed by Jeff’s grunt of ‘‘I was scared, sunshine,’’ along with Jared’s joined confession, ‘‘and upset.’’

‘‘C’mere, baby boy,’’ Jared continued, _finally_ pulling Jensen in for a much needed cuddle.

He melted at the cheery tone of forgiveness in that voice, his small hands weaving into the lengthy hair by Jared’s neck. Jeff proceeded to alternate kisses between Jensen’s damp cheek and Jared’s lips. Jensen didn’t know why Jeff would want to kiss him, he was well aware of the tears and smeared snot he had produced. Still, all three of them seemed to calm down after a lull of holding and soft touches, uncaring of passing shoppers.

It was Jared who broke the spell, though, by sighing. ‘‘Guess we should call today’s plan quits, eh?’’

Naturally, Jensen shook his head. He could remember how giddy his…new parents had been less than an hour ago. After all the upset he had just caused, the least he could do was cheer them up. Jared and Jeff had only wanted a good day out, and it wasn’t even for themselves, they had wanted to spoil Jensen.

‘‘No?’’ Jeff curled a finger under Jensen’s chin. ‘‘You wanna help Daddy and I pick out some things for you?’’

Giving a slight nod, he barely noticed that he had hooked a finger into his mouth until Jared chuckled. Pulling a face, he dropped the spit-slick digit out his mouth and felt his face heat. He couldn’t remember letting the pacifier fall from his mouth – the rubber teat had become somewhat of a safety guard to hide behind over the passage of time, almost as much as Honey’s soft texture had been with calming him.

‘‘Lost your binky, huh?’’ Jeff said, sympathetic.  
  
‘‘Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got a spare…’’ Jared trailed off, juggling Jensen in one arm while using the other to root around the diaper bag, ‘‘here!’’

But Jensen didn’t wholly accept the proffered item. At least, not with his mouth. He grabbed at it, almost in a daze, his mind too busy thinking of the downy-soft bunny with stupidly long ears. She had been his first real toy in the entirety of his lifetime; not second-hand, brought only for him. He’d lost her – no, he had _abandoned_ her. He had ditched the pink-nosed critter during his moment of sheer foolishness.

‘‘Hey, hey,’’ Jared began to coo. ‘‘What’s with the face, sweetpea?’’

Jensen felt his face drop further, feeling like a complete, utter cry baby…until Jeff made a low noise of understanding. Before Jensen could shed another tear (he really was a weepy mess today) the carpenter reached behind to lift the back of his tight, dark shirt to grab something that must’ve been tucked into the waistband of his jeans and –

 _Oh,_ yes. _Thank God_ , Jensen internally cheered.  
  
Wonderful, fantastical Jeff had found Honey. He didn’t think twice about stuffing the pacifier in his mouth so he had both hands to grab her. Jensen hummed with delight, burying his nose in the fluffy texture and flicking his bare feet back and forth in excitable glee. He didn’t really listen to the amused, pleased responses that flowed from Jeff and Jared’s mouth from his reaction, just relished in their familiar rumbles and presence as they continued to walk down the aisle.

* * *

 

‘‘Think we bought half the store yet, buddy?’’

Jensen looked up at his voice, a huge smile creeping behind his soother, and Jeff continued to feel at ease.

He playfully wiggled his thumb within Jensen’s small but strong hold and dipped down for a quick nuzzle against his baby’s rosy features. The boy had yet to let go of Jeff’s thumb since they had placed him in the seat of the shopping cart and, although it was a small act, he relished in the touch Jensen had initiated. Jeff – and undoubtedly Jared, too – felt like he had gone from zero to sixty after the mess that had transpired.

It was an experience Jeff hoped not to re-live, ever again. He’d probably sprouted several more grey hairs during his sprint around the store. Not that anyone could blame him; he’d felt as if he was nearing a heart attack (or broken heart) when he returned to discover Jared a near-wreck and Jensen-less. They had both assumed the worst: that Jensen had, despite their growing evidence to suggest otherwise, despised being their Little and done a runner. It cut them both, deeply.  
  
But, they had at least been anticipating some rejection...just not so soon. Jeff had hoped to spoil and let Jensen warm up to them a little more to help with convincing him to stay. Yet, as it turned out, none of that mattered now. Not when Jensen had been so heartbreakingly apologetic and, this time, sincere with saying he wanted to stay.

Stay with him and Jared…

‘‘Uh-oh.’’

Pulled out of his thoughts, Jeff quirked an eyebrow at the chirruped sound from Jensen.

‘‘Uh-oh?’’ Jeff parroted back, suppressing a smile. Little words but, already, their little guy was speaking so much more than before. It was genuine effort. ‘‘What’s –’’ he started, only to cut himself short. ‘‘Oh, I see.’’

Stopping with pushing the cart, Jeff looked around on the ground until he caught sight of the accidentally dropped item. He couldn’t bring himself to pry his thumb from Jensen’s grip and, instead, scooted back with the cart to collect the fallen pacifier. Without water on hand, Jeff popped it in his mouth without preamble, cleaning it with his own saliva. He’d long gotten used to witnessing his older sister do so with her daughter, back when she was little, and really didn’t think anything about it. Admittedly, he didn’t think until he had handed the pacifier back to Jensen and, by the time he realized that maybe it wasn’t wholly sanitary to do, it was too late: Jensen had it back in his mouth.

Jeff could only shrug before slumping further over the cart’s handle bars. ‘‘Where’s your Daddy gotten to, huh?’’ he pondered. ‘‘He said he’d gotten everything on that silly list of his and then ran off… you two are going to turn my hair white with worry, aren’t you?’’

It was meant to be said in jest, yet the way Jensen’s eyes dipped guiltily to the ground made Jeff want to kick himself.

‘‘I’m just teasing, sunshine. I’d say I forgive you, but there’s nothing to forgive. You were well within your rights to…leave. Daddy and I just thought you wanted this – ’’ Jensen squeezed his thumb tightly ‘‘ – yes, yes. You want to try this now. But I want you to understand we’re not mad, ‘kay?’’

‘‘You’re both nice t’me and…stuff,’’ the Little One mumbled, shy and red-faced.

Gods, could Jensen be any cuter? Jeff snorted, his uncaptured hand reaching up to card through soft, golden brown strands. The past hour had been heavenly with strolling around the store with his husband and their baby boy. This, Jeff noted, was what life was made of…

Until Jensen ducked away from his touch.

Frowning, Jeff thought he had done something wrong, or Jensen was being shy. But no, the little man still clung to his other hand while batting away Jeff’s other to look at something. What, exactly, he didn’t know, but Jensen’s eyes were alight with amusement with a grin so big the pacifier was dangling only by the boy’s white teeth.

Curious, he turned to look over his shoulder – only to come nose-to-nose with a huge, furry monstrosity.

‘‘Hi, babe, look what I found,’’ Jared’s light, playful voice came around from behind the _thing_.

Jeff blinked, bemused but baffled, and created a little more space between him and the… ‘‘Bear,’’ he realized. ‘‘A big ass bear.’’

It was ridiculously large, probably a few inches shorter than his height, yet managed to swamp Jared’s toned form. The bear seemed to be all stomach with barely any neck and had, in comparison to the body, stubby limbs. There was something appealing about it, in that cute-kinda-deformed way. That said, Jeff could only see his husband’s arms half-buried in the short, light-chocolate brown fur as the taller male held the humongous plushie aloft.

Well, until Jared lowered the massive ball of fuzz enough to shoot both him and Jensen a wide, dimpled smile. Jeff really didn’t need to hear his husband’s unspoken question. He rolled his eyes and gave a put-upon sigh.

‘‘No, Jay.’’

The younger man was such a big kid, and pouted. ‘‘But he’s got a polka dot bow-tie, Jeff. A _bow-tie_.’’

‘‘I’m starting to think you got this for yourself, not Jensen…’’

‘‘Nonsense!’’ Jared scoffed before turning to Jensen. ‘‘Wanna hug from Mr. Bear, Jensey?’’ Jared beamed, waving the plushie’s arm.

Jensen let out a very delighted sound and, had it not be for Jeff, probably would’ve scrambled up in the flip-up cart seat. He managed to steady the boy back into sitting down and knew, without a doubt, they’d be figuring how to fit a six-foot obese toy bear in the car. Regardless of his pushover-like tendencies, Jeff watched, grinning as Jared maneuvered the bear’s paw into patting Jensen’s head.

It made Jeff chuckle, deep and rich and bleeding any lingering negativity from before away.

* * *

 

The living room, to be frank, was a mess.

Jared had always been a believer that a house had to look clean but lived-in to become a home. The home he had created with Jeff was just that, plus comfort. Now that they had Jensen in their lives it was common to step on the sharp corner of a building block or, in the case of right now, wade through the bags upon bags of their current purchases. He and Jeff hadn’t planned to go overboard in their spoiling, but after the blip-turned-blessing of Jensen’s disappearing act at the store they couldn’t help but delve into some retail therapy.

Okay, so, maybe it was more Jared, not Jeff.  
  
It had kind of been Jared who piled more than they needed in the cart, but it wasn’t his fault. Jensen kept giving certain t-shirts or items a particular forlorn, little expression and, Jared, forever the big softie, kept adding more until he received a bashful smile. Jeff was no better, though. He had seen the way his husband encouraged Jensen into having a hold of the traditional, hand-crafted wooden toys – acting all innocent and pretending he didn’t know how the train set or, pull-along duck on a string got in there.

At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. How could it matter when Jensen stared reverently at each purchase? All which he and Jeff cared about was keeping Jensen happy and loved –

‘‘I’m going to throw this out the window.’’

Jared barked out a laugh at the grouchy, frustrated confession from his husband. The older man was upon the kitchen floor, bits and pieces strewn around him. He ignored the glare he received from laughing and pretended to be preoccupied with pouring freshly warmed milk into a bottle. It was a good way to hide his smile from Jeff, Mr. Handyman Husband, who was currently struggling with putting together Jensen’s highchair…

There was something highly amusing about the sight of a man who could build furniture from scratch, but struggle with flat-pack furniture.

Stifling the urge to chuckle further, Jared briefly glanced out the kitchen window and at the creeping darkness of night. He sighed, lips still twitching, and glanced back at Jeff while fastening the top on the bottle. After splashing a few drops of milk onto the soft side of his wrist, he found it the right temperature and rounded the kitchen counters to step closer to his husband’s crouched form.

‘‘Hey, you,’’ he playfully nudged the other man with a sock-clad toe. ‘‘Call it quits for tonight, babe. You’ve been at it since after dinner.’’

‘‘I’ll be done in a bit,’’ Jeff grumbled.  
  
Jared bit back a snigger. ‘‘You said that an hour ago.’’

‘‘This was the best high chair: solid wood frame, sturdy plastic tray and a reclining feature…Urgh. I hate this thing it – ’’

‘‘I think you did good pickin’ this one,’’ Jared softly interjected, one hand settling on his husband’s shoulder. ‘‘Looks safe and, are those little foxes and hedgehogs decorating the seat pad?’’

Jeff shoulders lost their tenseness underneath his palm. ‘‘Yeah…’’  
  
Smiling, Jared gave the broad muscle a light squeeze and continued, ‘‘you’re just used to making things your own way, Jeff. I mean, hell, when was the last time you followed instructions and not learnt method?’’

‘‘Not all of us were college boys living with flat pack furniture, babe,’’ Jeff smirked.

That earned the older man a light whack from the back of Jared’s hand. Still, the taller of the duo beamed at his husband’s loosened up attitude and made a point of shaking the bottle of milk in his other hand. It gained Jeff’s attention instantly and, almost instantly, any remaining creases on the bearded male’s face sluiced off like water.

‘‘You been having fun with Jensen?’’ Jeff asked, voice low. ‘‘He’s still okay…right?’’

‘‘More than okay,’’ Jared reassured, sparked with confidence. ‘‘While you’ve been battling with the highchair from hell, we’ve been tryin’ to unpack things...and I _really_ mean try. Got one bag open and that Lil’ man of ours distracted me.’’

‘‘Distracted you?’’

‘‘Yeah, we’ve kinda been playin’ with those toy dinosaurs.’’

Jeff laughed at that, and Jared understood why. After all, out of everything they had gathered when shopping, the small tub of plastic dinosaurs had been the cheapest yet most wanted item Jensen had wanted. It was odd, but cute. And, inwardly, Jared wondered if there was a hidden story to be told, or if Jensen just simply liked dinosaurs.

‘‘Go on in, hun,’’ Jeff decided with a sigh. ‘‘Let me just find the large hex wrench and bag of labeled ‘A’ screws, and I’ll take a break to come cuddle with you and Jensey.’’

‘‘Its missing screws?’’

Scrubbing at his beard, Jeff looked up at him. ‘‘Can’t find them anywhere – ’’

‘‘By ‘them’ you mean those,’’ Jared said, his finger pointing towards the plastic packet of black screws and small, black L-shaped object. The seated male followed his pointed direction, his entire face going slack with disbelief before whipping up to scowl at Jared, hard. ‘‘Hey!’’ Jared exclaimed, one hand raised in peace offering, ‘‘I told you to put on your glasses. You know you need them to read –’’

‘‘I – shit. I was _sitting_ on them?’’

‘‘Underneath your thigh isn’t sitting on them,’’ Jared half-laughed. ‘‘C’mon, leave it,’’ he pressed the cooling bottle into Jeff’s hand, ‘‘go give Jensen his bottle.’’

Visibly sagging, but smiling, Jeff clambered up onto his feet with a nod of thanks. Jared fully accepted the passing kiss as Jeff stepped towards the direction of the living room. He didn’t wait to scoop up the provided screws, instructions and large – and small – hex key to place them safely on the tabletop. The pair of them, Jeff and himself, could tackle finishing the highchair tomorrow morning before Jensen even woke up in time for breakfast.

Nodding to himself, Jared decided to follow his husband’s suit into the living room – and stopped dead in his tracks.

A soft, ‘huh’ escaped his mouth at the unexpected and empty sight of the couch and recliner. Jared had expected to find his husband and their baby boy curled up on one or the other, but no, his two special guys were absent. At least, that was his first impression until he looked past the clutter of unpacked shopping zeroed in on the unexpected sight of Jeff over by the far corner. The salt-and-pepper haired man was kneeling before the humongous stuffed bear that, since being unloaded from the car, had been plopped in the corner where bookshelves met wall.

‘‘What…?’’ Jared began to call out, a little worried, only to find himself shushed.

‘‘Shh, just – ’’ Jeff paused, unmoving save for his beckoning gesture, ‘‘ – Jay, just come look.’’

There was something excitable in Jeff’s whisper and, curious, Jared treaded carefully across the room. He was barely half-way across the room when he heard the tell-tale sound of an iPhone camera shutter, and rolled his eyes. What on earth was his husband snapping photos of now?

Stepping up close and coming to a halt, Jared soon found what the subject of Jeff’s rapt attention was. He should’ve guessed, really, given how – outside of himself – there was only really one other person who apparently enamored Jeff enough to indulge in taking sappy, spur-of-the-moment photos. It was Jensen, obviously, and Jared could only crouch down beside his husband and let out a soft sound at the endearing sight before him.

‘‘We got ourselves a real cutie, right?’’

Jared silently agreed with the hushed comment, his hand automatically reaching out slip into Jeff’s own. Jensen sure was a ‘real cutie’. The Modified male was fast asleep and curled up on the huge belly of the overly large bear like one would a bean bag. Admiring the view, he scarcely felt the brush of Jeff’s lips against his captured hand and, instead, shared a smile with the older male before returning his attention back to Jensen.

‘‘Think he means his ‘yes’ this time?’’ Jared found himself asking. ‘‘I know you said…’’

‘‘It’s okay, really,’’ Jeff breathed against his knuckles.

Squeezing Jeff’s fingers within his own, Jared felt his partner’s further confidence bleed into him. Smirking, he couldn’t help but reach out and fix Jensen’s pacifier with a light nudge. The item had previously been hanging precariously from their little one’s lower lip, until now. Now, even in deep sleep, Jensen subconsciously accepted the item with nothing more than a snuffle before giving a few languid sucks upon the soother.

Running a finger Jensen’s ruddy cheek, Jared frowned. ‘‘He’s very warm…’’

‘‘It’s been a tough day, Jay. Our baby boy just needs an early night and decent sleep.’’

* * *

 

When Jensen wakes the following morning he feels… _off._

He’s groggy and sweaty and can’t even remember being put to bed. Yesterday had been a whirlwind of the good, the bad and, in spite of his epiphany at the store, the emotionally draining. Jensen can only assume his woken state is a reaction from the stress aftermath – it’s the only thing that makes sense. After all, besides the growing ache behind his eyes and continued tiredness weighing down his limbs, he feels _good_.  

Like, good on the inside. Happy and, well, a little giddy.

For the first time in forever, Jensen is actually in a lucky position in life. He keeps thinking back to those two women at the store, and the blank-faced, adult baby who he had witnessed being treated like an accessory. The idea that he could’ve been in that position and not with Jared and Jeff is beyond daunting. But, still. Jensen is far from being like most bought adult babies he…he really, really wants this.

Consensual – that’s the word Jeff said. Is that what Jensen is now? ‘cause he’s not trying to be sly this time. He has no other motive besides giving this entire circumstance a proper shot. He doesn’t want to escape.  
  
If anything, Jensen wants to get to know more about Jeff and Jared. He wants to have Jeff rumble nice things in his ear, like how brave he is. He wants to listen to Jared’s soft drawl and silly stories. He wants more days chilling in the garden, more days eating good food and, above all, more days of no more worrying.

With Jared and Jeff, Jensen doesn’t have to figure anything out: they feed, clothe and care for him. They’ve been doing this since bringing Jensen home and asking him the first time around. What had been unsettling is nothing but comforting security. He doesn’t have to find an alleyway to sleep in or, figure out if he can afford a cheap chocolate bar. Sure, Jensen knows he’s still not fully onboard with certain things. Diaper changes are still a big, big deal. And, yeah, just even _thinking_ of saying the word _Daddy_ or _Papa_ makes his whole body flush with the scorching heat of embarrassment.

But…but he wants to make Jeff and Jared _smile_.

He wants them to know he’s grateful in spite of not being good at this baby-thing. Wants to show Jared and Jeff that he doesn’t mind their smothering love and touches as much as it once seemed. And, well, that’s pretty much why, despite his mild headache and achy stomach, Jensen tries not to spoil the dawn of a new day.

Which works out pretty well…until he promptly spews his stomach contents all over Jeff at dinner time.


	9. Chapter 9

The day followed the fiasco at the store is, to be frank, fucking good.

At least, that’s Jeff’s opinion. He had woken up feeling like all was right in the world with his husband curled next to him and their baby boy asleep across the hall. Originally, they had both kept expecting Jensen to bail (maybe not in a running off sense, but by telling them he wanted out) and tried to make the best out of a glorious opportunity while they could. So, to fully know their little one was eager to stay with them was downright heavenly.

How long he and Jared spent listening to Jensen’s soft breathing via the baby monitor in the early morning light must’ve been for, at the very least, over an hour. It had been a magnificent start to a new day – not that much had changed throughout the day. Routines and usual behavior still followed, but Jeff did take note on the two changes within their baby as the day progressed:

For instance, Jensen was a) a little bit more vocal, and b) initiated touch more.

And by touch Jeff meant _clingy_. Jensen had spent the majority of the day latched to Jared in a koala-like fashion…which was something Jeff knew his husband lovingly encouraged. He had just rolled his eyes at the younger man’s ‘baby hogging’ and managed to get his share of cuddles from Jensen after prying the Little One from his husband’s arms. It had been an amusingly positive change in Jensen, similar to how Jeff felt about their baby boy’s minor increase in words. Sure, while the little guy might’ve still stayed quiet and not said the two words – _Daddy_ and _Papa_ – that he and Jared longed to hear, but Jensen did make his opinion known via a short exclamations.

Jeff had outright laughed upon first hearing the willful, albeit grumpy, _‘‘no!’’_ that left Jensen’s lips during when he had offered to lure the boy away from TV and play with new toys. All in all, both he and Jared embraced these minor changes in attitude and assumed Jensen was just testing his role as baby. It was also why Jeff thought nothing of it when, right now, Jensen was proving difficult with eating his dinner.

Their baby boy was probably testing boundaries, Jeff noted.

Still, as he eyed his son’s half-eaten plate of honey-glazed ham and veggies, Jeff couldn’t help but frown. Minor changes aside, he was pretty surprised at Jensen turning away food. Jensen, for as long as they had known him, treated all mealtimes and snacks with reverent enthusiasm…

Until now.

Now, Jensen was slumped low down in his new highchair with his lips downturned. Jeff admitted defeat, for now, and set the spork down on the boy’s divided, plastic plate. He bent forward in his chair and sighed, simply looking at Jensen’s blank expression and listening to the clink of freshly washed dishes being put away by Jared.

‘‘Don’t you like Daddy’s cooking, Jensey?’’ Jared called over, playful but loud.

Jeff didn’t miss the wince cross Jensen’s features and, noticing the boy’s ruddy cheeks, smirked. He didn’t think twice about plucking his son out of his highchair and setting those small feet atop his thighs, making him stand in his lap. Under the guise of a hug, Jeff subtly checked the diaper, having silently assumed Jensen’s lack of interest in food and blushing features came down to needing a change.

But no, Jeff came to discover the diaper beneath his palm didn’t feel heavy nor squishy. What he did notice, though, was the little face pressed against his neck was _hot_. It wasn’t even the healthy warmth of Jensen’s near-constant blush and, instead, radiated the sweaty heat of someone sick.

‘‘Jay…’’ he began to call for his husband, only to halt.

An awful, half-choked noise expelled from Jensen’s tiny, shuddering form. He barely turned his head to see what was wrong when something warm, wet and thick splattered against his shoulder and neck. Jeff felt the foul chyme seep through his shirt and dribble down his chest, the only hint that Jensen was finished puking being the emergence of a wail.

‘‘Whoa! Jeff what on eart–?!’’

‘‘I don’t know! ’’ Jeff interjected his husband’s panicked tone with a slight snap. He couldn’t help it, he felt like Jared was going to blame him – as illogical as it sounded. His husband would be the last person to blame him. Still, Jeff exhaled heavily, batted aside the infectious cloud of panic that had engulfed the kitchen, and stated the obvious.

‘‘He just threw up, babe.’’

‘‘I can see that,’’ Jared blandly said. He stepped close, his hands twitching and eyes solely on Jensen. ‘‘Oh, my poor baby boy…’’

Internally floundering, Jeff tried to pry Jensen’s sweaty, quivering form away from him. His actions had more to do with seeing his son’s face and not the vile slop Jensen was inadvertently smearing between them. Either way, the little male merely clung on tighter to him, the desperate, mortified sobs taking on a more heartbreaking keen that left Jeff feeling utterly helpless. Thankfully, Jared stepped in, all large hands and gentle tones as he expertly extracted Jensen from Jeff’s chest.

‘‘That’s a good boy, Jensey,’’ the Padalecki soothed. ‘‘Let Daddy just take this icky mess off.’’

Jeff half-listened to the snap of buttons being undone alongside Jensen’s quietened down cries. He stripped himself of his own t-shirt, careful to not get any more of the revolting mess on the floor. And, only then, once Jared’s handed over Jensen’s soiled onesie, does he go about dropping both his and Jensen’s clothing in the empty sink. If Jeff knows his husband, and he most certainly does, then he knows Jared will probably go on a disinfectant/cleaning spree later.

For the time being, however, it seems his long-haired lover is wholly focused on their sickly boy. Jeff can only sidle up beside his two favorite guys and eye the pitiful state in which Jensen is in. He feels at a loss when looking at those tear-clogged eyelashes and selection of (snot/tears/spew) fluids smeared across Jensen’s fever-flushed face. Yet, as odd as it may be, Jeff also finds that, at this very moment, he truly realizes that as gross as Jensen looks right now, he can’t help but feel a strong burst of unbreakable adoration towards the little man in Jared’s arms.

‘‘Muh-My…’’ Jensen hiccups and groans.

‘‘Your tummy? Is that what hurts, sweetpea?’’

‘‘U-Uh-huh.’’

Blinking out of his stupor, Jeff catches the end of Jared’s and Jensen’s conversation. He stays quiet, feels the creeping twinge of helplessness again, and rubs a comforting hand gently across their Little’s skinny, pale belly. Fever, vomiting, stomach cramps – Jeff thinks it’s safe to say Jensen might have a stomach bug.  
  
Poor baby, Jeff thinks, had Jensen been feeling awful all day?

Still, he works his jaw, uneasy. As over protective as it might sound, Jeff wants to know exactly what Jensen is going through. His best bet for answers is to call someone with medical training. But, first…

‘‘Come to papa, bud,’’ Jeff says, extending his arms towards Jensen. ‘‘Let’s go get this gunk off while Daddy gives Auntie Sam a call, ‘kay?’’

* * *

With a chill tickling its way down his spine, Jensen curled in close to Jeff’s hairy chest for warmth. He didn’t know how long they spent standing under the shower spray, he had kind of zoned out after Jeff helped him swill the sour taste of vomit from his mouth. It was only now, clean and naked, did Jensen really slip back into reality.

That didn’t mean he was focused, though. Jeff was mentioning that Sam woman again, saying she was going to make him better along with other, softly crooned comments as he bundled Jensen into a towel. He didn’t really listen to the words, but he did focus on the soothing rumble of Jeff’s voice. All Jensen’s attention was mainly on not puking his guts up again – which was a task in itself when his stomach was cramping and nausea bubbled up inside of him.                                                                                                                   

Still, Jensen somehow survived and cracked open his eyes – eyes he didn’t know he closed – when he felt himself placed down on the familiar, padded surface of his changing table. Rubbing at his itchy eyes, he was too drained to even feel the slightest prickle of embarrassment when Jeff went about patting him dry and strapping him into a new diaper. If anything, the gentle touches of calloused hands and secure snugness of a fresh diaper made him feel inexplicably better.

‘‘Well, you feel much cooler,’’ Jeff murmured, touching his forehead. ‘‘That’s good.’’

Jensen simply whined, unable to help himself.

‘‘Shh, I know. My baby feels horrible, doesn’t he?’’

It was pretty easy to agree with that sympathetic comment; he does feel horrible. Jensen had never been sick like this before. Minor colds and chest infections from sleeping rough in the winter didn’t really count. Even a kid, the only time he threw up was that one time he got sucker punched in the gut by a bully. That said, on both instances, he hadn’t really received any aftercare from his then-foster parents or others in general. Having Jeff and Jared hold him and clean him filled Jensen with breath-catching awe.

He was still drifting in his thoughts that, when Jeff pulls something over his head, Jensen jolts a little. Peeking down at himself, he eyes the soft, long-sleeved bodysuit the older man is snapping into place. It’s warm and cozy with its baseball tee style of colored arms and white body. The sleeves are a little too long, and Jensen curls his fingers into the red cotton while pointedly ignoring the black lettering upon his chest labelling him as: Little Peanut.

But Jeff just picks him back up, cradling him in one arm and using the other to rub Jensen’s tummy. Suddenly, Jensen doesn’t really care about weird clothing slogans as that hand magically eases the ache building in his stomach. He lets out a gusty sigh, the weight of being miserably sick lifting just a little bit more as Jeff walks out into the hallway and towards the living room.

‘‘Looks like we’re in luck, fella,’’ Jeff hums, ‘‘it seems like Auntie Sam is here already.’’

Jensen doesn’t know how to feel about that, but any anxious thoughts of meeting this ‘Auntie Sam’ falls to the wayside. He’s too sickly to care and, when Jeff steps into the living room, Jensen can just about muster enough strength to crane his head a little towards the direction of the couch. Jared’s familiar form is seated there, along with a shorter female who, upon their entry, stops talking to turn towards him and Jeff. He can’t help but take a moment to look at her; she’s closer to Jeff’s age with dark chocolate hair and a no nonsense air despite her kind eyes and soft appearance of jeans and oatmeal cardigan.

Plus, she’s also holding a dark, nylon medical bag in her lap.

‘‘And there’s our Lil' guy now, Sam,’’ Jared says, regaining Jensen’s attention.

The floppy-haired man is smiling and, silently, Jensen notes the change of shirt. He feels bad that he hadn’t just spewed on Jeff but had, also, dirtied up Jared’s shirt. Apologetic and, maybe, just feeling a little bit needy Jensen stretches his arms out towards Jared, uncaring of the twinge of pain the movement caused. Jeff simply presses a kiss on his brow and hands him over to Jared’s expectant arms.

He can’t hold back the hum of delight that leaves him when he spots Honey’s near-by spot on the couch and what is hooked on Jared’s finger. Not that Jensen is offered the latter straight away – Jared makes a point of arranging Jensen in his lap so he’s facing the woman, Sam, before popping the pacifier in his mouth.

‘‘Hey, sweetpea,’’ Jared continues, and Jensen curls in close. ‘‘Daddy was just tellin’ Auntie Sam how you’re not feelin’ so good. She’s just goin’ to give you a little checkup, ‘cause me and Papa worry too much.’’

Jensen crinkles his nose and turns his face into Jared’s arm. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he would rather curl up and have a tummy rub. His action doesn’t cause any telling off, just a soft laugh from Sam and Jeff. Jared, however, fondly shakes his head, Jensen can see from his half-burrowed, peeking location against the man’s bicep.

‘‘Sorry, he’s a little shy,’’ Jared sighs, affectionately.

‘‘And he’s sick,’’ Jeff excuses with a smile.

Sam just nods, a noise of agreement leaving her. She brushes a finger against Jensen’s bare toes, the slight tickle drawing him away from half-hiding his face. Still, he does keep his cheek half-smooshed against Jared’s arm – his head is throbbing and feels too heavy for his neck. He barely hears her whisper ‘‘hello, there,’’ to him over the loud sucking of his pacifier before she turns her twinkling eyes towards Jeff.

‘‘By the way,’’ she winks, ‘‘nice towel.’’

‘‘Oh, shut up…’’

There is no heat in Jeff’s response, just scoffed exasperation, and Jensen snuffles, suddenly very sleepy despite his discomfort. He follows Sam’s attention towards Jeff and, it’s only now, does he realize the bearded man is still half-naked and damp, clad only in a short towel that looks ready to fall off his hips. Jensen wonders why Jeff didn’t dry off and put on some clothes, but the answer in glaringly obvious in everything both his new parents have been doing since day one: Jensen’s needs came first…

A warmth that is no way affiliated to Jared’s large hand upon his stomach fills Jensen’s belly at such a thought. He smiles a little behind his pacifier, his happy discovery making him deaf to the sound of the trio of older people talking and tell-tale sound of a bag’s zip being undone. Jensen only resurfaces from his brief daze when he feels Jeff’s calloused hand cupping his face and turning his head towards him.

‘‘Look at Honey, Jensen,’’ Jeff sing-songs. ‘‘She’s dancing.’’

The half-naked male is crouched on the floor beside Jared’s legs, one hand cupping Jensen’s cheek while the other is jiggling Honey. The poor bunny looks like she’s having a fit, not dancing. Her overly long ears are swishing about and he doesn’t get what’s going on. Jensen half-wishes he had been paying attention and, clearly, he’s missed what was said because –

Something _metal_ and _cold_ enters his ear.

‘‘Shh, shhh,’’ Jared’s voice vibrates against his cheek from where his face is sandwiched between the speaker’s chest and Jeff’s hand. He tries to move away from the unexpected, chilly intrusion, barely aware that he’s whining until Jared carries on with, ‘‘shh, less of that grizzlin’, baby boy. Auntie Sam is just taking your temperature, that’s all. Sh-Shh-Shhh.’’

Well, Jensen thinks, glumly, he should be grateful they’re using his ear…and not somewhere else.

Still, he tries to control his grumpy frustration after the ear-thermometer expels a beep. It’s pretty hard, though. His stomach feels worse with its cramping and, in spite of his shower, he feels sticky with sweat already. Having Sam continue to prod and poke and feel him up doesn’t help his mood at all. Even having Jared coo to him and Jeff, oh-so-patiently, letting Jensen’s clammy hands grip and fiddle with his rough fingers only distracts him so much.

‘‘Well, I’m sorry about that, Jensen,’’ Sam pulls an exaggerated, sympathetic pout, ‘‘bet that wasn’t fun, was it? This really wasn’t the best way to meet me in Nurse-Mode. We had all planned to get you and your daddies over for a barbeque for a little meet-and-greet later this week…’’

‘‘Sam,’’ Jared murmurs, tone light and amazed.

‘‘You guys didn’t have to do that,’’ Jeff sounds just as bad, his voice laced with gratitude.

The woman just shrugs as she packs away her stethoscope. ‘‘It was mainly Vicki’s doing,’’ she says, and while Jensen has heard that name before, he’s more focused on making sure Sam keeps packing and isn’t going to get something else. ‘‘I had her and the boys over the other afternoon,’’ Sam lets out a laugh, ‘‘and, well, we kind of got planning. Thought it would be a good way to let your Little One meet the others’ little monsters and catch up…but I guess that’ll have to wait given a certain someone’s tummy bug, huh?’’

She says the last part to Jensen, her silky-soft fingers wiggling lightly under his chin. Although feeling awful, the action makes Jensen quirk a faint, lethargic smile behind his pacifier. Sam gives him a smile before having her focus diverted by Jeff who, oddly enough, sounds troubled.

‘‘D’you think he picked it up from one of us? I mean, the other day, his binky fell on the floor and I put it in my mouth to clean it beca–’’

A hard, playful whack from Sam cuts off Jeff’s comment.

‘‘I wasn’t aware becoming a parent would make you stupid, Jeff,’’ the female scoffs. ‘‘Gastroenteritis is spread from person to person or contaminated items, idiot. I doubt Jensen got this bug of you two, the last time either of you two were ill it was months ago and he – ’’ she jabs a thumb at Jared ‘‘ – called me to whine how much of a brat you were during a cold. Your little one probably picked it up from someone when you were out.’’

Jeff grunts, his ears pinking a little with embarrassment as Jared and Sam begin to laugh. Jensen just lets the melodious noise wash over him, his eyes sliding shut. He drifts, sucking lazily on his pacifier and listening to Jeff excuse himself for some ‘‘much needed clothes’’ while Jared begins to ask Sam questions. Jensen doesn’t really listen to what’s being said, he just dips in and out until a snippet of Sam’s advice breaks though his dozy haze:

‘‘ – probably’ll be nauseous and have some diarrhea, so keep him hydrated.’’

Cringing, Jensen promptly buries his horrified face into Jared’s chest and tunes out the rest, ‘Cause no one needs to listen a stranger talking to their new parents about… _that_!

* * *

When Jared wakes it’s less to do with the buttery, early morning light spilling from the patio windows and more to do with a faint noise. He could’ve remained dead to world, sleeping on the couch be damned, after the restless night he shared with his husband. The pair of them had set up camp in the living room, far too anxious with leaving Jensen alone and sick in his crib. But, somehow, it’s sheer willpower prying open Jared’s eyelids at the distant jingle of keys and crinkle of a plastic bag.

Automatically, he blearily blinks down at the warm weight upon his chest – Jensen. Their baby boy is finally asleep, no longer gagging through muscle spasms, restlessly squirming about, or needing frequent diaper changes. Jensen’s got one arm tucked around Honey and drooling into Jared’s clavicle, his pacifier currently unused and dangling by the attached, colorful strap clipped onto his onesie. It’s a huge relief to see and, knowing the little man is conked out with exhaustion, Jared tries to figure out where the noise is coming from without moving and accidentally disturbing Jensen.

In the end, it doesn’t matter.

Jared’s internal question is answered when Jeff steps into his line of vision. The older man looks as worn as Jared feels except, as opposed to being in sweats and a baggy tee, Jeff is dressed. Rumpled and sleepy-looking, yes, but still dressed. It’s barely 6AM and, after a night like last night, he expected to find Jeff snoring in his recliner, not up and about. That said, the reason as to why his husband is dressed becomes clear when, mid-yawn, Jeff places a familiar plastic bag upon the coffee table.

‘‘You went downtown?’’ Jared whispers, surprised – and Jeff jumps a little at the unexpected noise. He’d laugh at such a reaction if it wasn’t for Jensen and, instead, suppresses a snort. ‘‘Sorry,’’ he adds with a grin. ‘‘What had you goin’ to the pharmacy at this hour?’’

‘‘Supplies,’’ Jeff murmured, carefully unloading the bag’s contents. ‘‘We needed more hand sanitizer and Sam said, given Jensen’s size, that children’s liquid Tylenol would be better so…’’

‘‘So you raided the twenty-four hour pharmacy?’’ he interjected, smirking.

‘‘Pretty much,’’ his husband admits with a tired smile. ‘‘Ah, yeah,’’ Jeff pulls out a large, plastic bottle of cloudy-looking liquid, ‘‘and I got Pedialyte.’’

Jared blinks. ‘‘Pedi-what?’’

‘‘It’s meant to be better than water, replaces electrolytes and stuff. I don’t know, babe. Sam recommended it so I got a few bottles of unflavored and one mixed fruit flavor…’’

At that, Jared can’t hold back a soft laugh at his husband’s ramble. ‘‘My hero,’’ he says, jokingly.

‘‘Damn straight,’’ Jeff offers a smug waggle of eyebrows.

Jared would roll his eyes if he didn’t feel so tired and, instead, sleepily tips his head in the tell-tale motion of beckoning a kiss. Jeff complies pretty easy by stepping close, kneeling down and huddling near the couch. Their brief moment of lips brushing doesn’t last long – Jensen snuffles in his sleep and gives a full body wiggle that had them both freezing on the spot. It’s Jeff, though, who soothes their sickly boy, and Jared can’t help but watch, transfixed, at the besotted expression on his husband’s face as the man repetitively brushes a thumb down Jensen’s rosy cheek.

Once Jensen goes lax, they both fall into a comfortable silence. Jared listens to the muffled sounds summer morning accompanied by his son’s heavy breathing while Jeff seems content to sweep a thumb over one of Jensen’s downy eyebrows. How long they spent in peaceful silence, Jared doesn’t know, but Jeff cuts through the noise of tweeting birds with a rasped confession…

‘‘I’ll be honest, I feel a little out my element here, Jay.’’

Eyes snapping to his husband’s furrowed expression, Jared raises a questioning eyebrow. Jeff responds with a shrug, though, looking strangely sheepish, and Jared understands. For all that Jeff is the older, confident, solid rock in their relationship, he is also a massive softie. The latter was such a rarity in itself that Jared felt uncertain. He wasn’t naive enough to think Jeff was all powerful and flawless; Lord knew how many times he had to tell his husband to not leave his sweaty socks under their bed.

But, still, the last time he had seen Jeff acting as he did now was back when Jared had lost his mother. The older man had been strong, as always, but increasingly unsure in his efforts of easing Jared’s grief. To see Jeff like this now, albeit in a less serious situation, was something Jared didn’t know whether to find amusing, or cute. After all, Jensen only has a tummy bug. It would be gone in two-to-three days with a few extra for recovery.

And, well, didn’t they say the first night was the hardest? ‘Cause that’s what Jared thought, and he and Jeff pretty much kicked ass last night with dealing with their puking-and-pooping-machine. The rest would be easy-peasy... right?

* * *

‘‘There we go, nice‘n clean.’’

Jensen stops looking up at the ceiling of the living room and, sluggishly, rolls his head towards the speaker, Jared. The thin, waterproof changing pad crinkles under his movement and he finds Jared by his feet, smiling down at him and smoothing the tabs of his new diaper in place. Despondent and exhausted, he can’t return the floppy-haired man’s smile any more than he can feel embarrassed at being changed, again.

Soft fingers feel his forehead and, groggily, he realizes Jared’s still talking. ‘‘My poor Jensey,’’ he sighs sympathetically at him. ‘‘I know you feel icky, sweetpea, but compared to last night you’re on the mend, that’s for sure.’’

Letting out a groan, Jensen can’t really agree. Yes, his fever had gone down and, yes, he hadn’t thrown-up since last night, but what limited substance is in him has been leaving in more horrid ways. All in all, he’s miserable and frustrated – last night’s poor sleep mingled with a day of sitting on couch has left him irritable and frustrated. Jensen had longingly looked towards the array of new, untouched toys that had been neatly stored into the bottom of one of the deep bookshelves. Yet, as much as he wanted to play with them, he didn’t have the strength to do anything more than loll about on Jared or Jeff.

For the better half of the day both men have been rubbing his tummy, shushing him to sleep and making him take vile medicine and drink bottles of cloudy liquid. His…his daddies, that’s what they are, they've been marvelous. They’re kind, practically pampering to him, and that’s pretty much why Jensen couldn’t bring himself to be mad at the older men when they only let him eat a cracker or dry toast. It doesn’t matter that he still feels queasy, the idea of missing out on food – good, real food – when he’s just gotten used to the familiarity of a full stomach only makes his mood worse.

So, it hardly helps when he spots Jeff reappear with two, dreaded items.

They’re innocent enough: a stubby bottle of cloudy liquid and small medicine cup filled with a sticky, red substance. Jensen feels his face crumple; he’s fed-up of seeing those two things. The bottle is flavorless and boring and the ‘tastes like cherry’ medicine is revolting. Logically, he knows both items are the reason his fever and headache had abated, but he doesn’t care. He wants his bottle of warm milk, or, better yet, the peach or mixed berry juice –

‘‘Hey, what’s with the face, sunshine?’’ Jeff greets him with a smile.

‘‘Overtired,’’ Jared says, like Jensen can’t _hear_ the whisper.

The eldest of the trio lets out a sympathetic noise. ‘‘Don’t worry, bud,’’ Jeff looked at him, medicine cup raised, ‘‘this’ll be the last dose for tonight.’’

‘‘Then Daddy and Papa will get you ready for beddy-byes,’’ Jared adds on.

And, hearing that, something inside Jensen _breaks_.

He doesn’t want to go to ‘beddy-byes’. He doesn’t want to sleep when all he feels so pent-up and wretched. Yet, most of all, he doesn’t want to be left alone. They didn’t put him in his crib last night, but they will now. Jensen doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be feeling as bad as he does and away from his Daddy and Papa –

‘‘Nuuuuuu!’’

The mangled noise cuts through the air, and Jensen’s only aware the protest is emitting from him when it tapers off into a high keen. He’s barely aware what’s going on, too caught up in his own sudden distress that he doesn’t even listen to the increase in soft voices, let alone know he’s flailing his limbs about and squalling. Hell, Jensen doesn’t even notice he’s drumming his feet against Jared’s folded legs until those large, paw-like hands scoop him up and hold him close. Only then, held tightly, does he realize he just had a tantrum.  
  
An honest-to-God _tantrum_.  
  
Scary thing, Jensen notes, is that it came so naturally.


	10. Chapter 10

‘‘There, there, baby boy…’’

How many times Jared had said that particular phrase in the past twenty minutes, he had lost count. After Jensen’s momentarily, flailing tantrum had dipped, their boy broke out into a full-on, mortified wail that left Jared holding the Little One close and attempting to calm him down. It was easier said than done, though. Yet, shushing quietly and walking around the house with a slight bounce in his step seemed to work wonders with quieting Jensen down somewhat. Now, after pacing from room to room, Jared lingered in the main body of the hallway, swaying on the spot and listening to his son’s quiet, croaky weeping.

‘‘What brought that on, eh?’’ Jared murmured.

A hitched sniffle and tightening of little arms around his neck was his only reply.

Not that he wholly expected a reply in the first place; Jensen was still gulping and crying softly into his ear, completely worn and wrung out. Besides, Jared assumed their little guy was just cranky. Being ill was no fun in the first place, let alone adding a night of poor sleep and day of mind-numbing, poor attempts at rest into the mix. His and Jeff’s baby was physically run down and, clearly, emotionally worn out.

And, Jared noted, maybe a little shamed.

Both he and his husband hadn’t missed the way Jensen’s face had fell upon the realization he had, for all intents and purposes, had a tantrum over the mention of bedtime. Although startling, Jared couldn’t help but find the Little’s burst of raw emotion interesting and, oddly enough, comforting. Maybe it was Jensen’s sick state that had him regressing, or something else, but Jared didn’t care. Jensen’s uncharacteristic temper tantrum was the emotional equivalent of a summer storm – sudden and shockingly fierce – and it only highlighted that Jensen wasn’t masking his emotions; it was a sign of trust, plain and simple.

Still… ‘‘I worry that all we seem to be doin’ is making you cry lately, baby,’’ Jared confesses into sweaty, golden-brown strands.

It’s how he feels, though. However, Jared knows that, while Jensen has had a few spilt tears, it’s to be expected: babies will always cry, it’s natural. Plus, Jared tells himself, the few months of parenthood is always going to be hard on all, especially during the settling-in period. That said, it doesn’t soothe the empathetic twinge in his heart at seeing Jensen this way. Even Jeff, who had made himself scarce during Jared’s weaving and rocking about the house, looks a little worrisome from where he is currently standing, propped up against the living room doorway.

Jared can only keep up his gentle swaying and return the compassionate, almost proud, smile his husband sends his way. Nothing needs to be done or said, Jared knows the older man is offering him silent love and support. At least, until Jeff pushes himself off the door-frame and steps into the hallway. Only then does he find himself earning a sweeping kiss on his jaw before Jeff is back to moving, skirting around him to try and catch a glimpse of Jensen’s half-hidden face. In the end, Jeff comes to stand behind him; one hand splaying itself across Jared’s hip while the other coaxes Jensen’s tear-stained face up.

Whatever Jeff can see, it makes him laugh and, with a little bit of maneuvering Jensen, Jared can spot the humor in the situation. For all that their baby looks pitiful with his puffy green eyes, red-splotched face and drippy nose, Jared finds himself chuckling fondly. It had less to do with Jensen’s misery – they’d _never_ laugh at that – and more to do with the shirt collar of Jared’s plaid shirt he is sucking on.

‘‘I’m sure Daddy’s shirt isn’t that yummy, is it?’’ Jeff says, his fingers already plucking the soggy material away. ‘‘Look here, I got your binky.’’

Jensen all but slurps the proffered item into his mouth. Jared can hear the wet snuffles and frantic sucking that follows as the little body in his arms gives a sudden jerk. It startles all three of them, especially when Jensen does it again, and _again_. Jared feels his lips twitch at the realization the Modified Little One is merely suffering from hiccups and, unable to help himself, nuzzles Jensen’s hot, damp cheek upon speaking.

‘‘Calmer now, I hope?’’ he whispers before planting a kiss against the boy’s sweaty forehead. ‘‘Hmm, I think somebody needs a wipe down,’’ Jared makes a point of looking at Jeff despite speaking towards Jensen. ‘‘How ‘bouts Papa cleans you up a little before bed?’’

The whine Jensen produces makes him cringe at the possible, if expected start, of more tears. Thankfully, Jeff see’s something in Jensen’s watery, half-lidded eyes that Jared must’ve missed. Because, before Jared can amend his mention of wash and bedtime, Jeff steps in with taking Jensen from him.

‘‘I think somebody doesn’t want to go to sleep alone, huh?’’ his husband speculates.

Jared blinks, surprised. Had _that_ been what set Jensen’s tantrum off?

‘‘Silly goose,’’ he chides their boy, softly. ‘‘Papa and I weren’t goin’ to leave you. The best remedies for sick little babies are cuddles…aren’t they, Jeff?’’

‘‘Mhm, they are.’’

Jensen just flops against Jeff, relief evident and hiccups still twitching his body. Jared reaches out to rub at his son’s small back in big, warm circles. He takes a moment to share a look with Jeff, to silently motion the older male to go on ahead. After all, given how restless Jensen has been with getting to sleep, there is something Jared needs to get first –

‘‘C’mon, sunshine, let’s get you freshened up…’’

Half-listening to Jeff’s cajoling, Jared steps back into the living room as his husband carries Jensen down the corridor towards the bedrooms. He wastes no time with heading towards the destination of the laundry room, his attention immediately landing on the neat pile of ironed clothes atop the washing machine. The trio of blue and white Marquisette blankets were tucked between Jeff’s t-shirts and a selection of Jensen’s unworn, but washed, new clothing.

Jared had merely bought the whisper-soft cotton blankets with the forethought of hot, summer nights to come. Plus, the three-pack of blankets had looked adorable with their blue trim, white background and differing array of blue patterns. He carefully tugs out one of the three which, unlike the other two, appeared to be dotted with blue anchors, and threw it over his shoulder. He also did the same with a plain, teal-colored bodysuit before heading back into the living room and collecting Honey and the forgotten cup of medicine and bottle of Pedialyte.

Silently, he hoped Jensen wouldn’t fuss too much over the last two items.

Luckily enough, the world was on Jared’s side, as when he re-entered his and Jeff’s bedroom Jensen appears to be bonelessly complacent in just his diaper. The little guy is still hiccupping a little, his skinny chest looking way too fragile, but he looks relaxed under Jeff’s ministrations of wiping him down. Jared takes a moment to watch from the doorway and listen to the soft, comforting utterances his husband is saying to their overtired, sickly baby.

A lot of what Jeff says is compliments with the occasional, sympathetic, _‘‘I know, I know, baby,’’_ whenever Jensen lets out a whimper. Jared’s pretty sure he could just stay quiet and watching the tender moment, but he can’t. Jensen needs his medicine and bottle. Plus, he’s got an idea; a plan, really, as to how to get Jensen off into the land of nod for a night of decent, undisturbed sleep. So, with zero reluctance, Jared steps into the bedroom and carefully places both medicine cup and bottle on the nightstand before sidling up next to his husband and baby.

‘‘There’s our handsome boy,’’ Jared beams down at Jensen’s clean face.

Jeff nods in agreement. ‘‘He’s a real trooper, that’s for sure.’’

Always the shy one, even when ill, Jensen blushes and looks away – until he spots Honey in Jared’s hands. Both older males laugh at the youngest’s sudden grabby hands reaching in the direction of the toy rabbit. Naturally, Jared complies, taking Jeff’s place and letting Jensen have a moment of clinging cuddles with the bunny before re-dressing their boy in the short-sleeved bodysuit. He takes his time with the act, offering fleeting touches of comfort and playful fingers dancing across Jensen’s sides while listening to Jeff putter about in the bathroom, disposing of wet-wipes and brushing his teeth.

By the time his husband slips back into the bedroom, he’s clad only in his tight, black boxer-briefs and Jared’s already beginning his plan. Well… it’s more of an attempt, really. Twice he finds himself folding the blanket wrong until he recalls the instructions he had read earlier in the day. Eventually, Jared gets it right and, carefully, finishes with tucking the blanket around Jensen’s tiny form –

‘‘Are you…’’ Jeff trails off, and Jared can hear the intrigue in his voice. ‘‘Jay, are you _swaddling_ him?’’

Laughing at the surprised tone, he nods. ‘‘Yup.’’

‘‘When did you learn that?’’

‘‘The power of Google, hun,’’ Jared chuckles, gently scooping Jensen up.

His husband looks taken aback, amazed and amused all in one, as he sits down on the end of the bed. Jared simply offers a bashful smile, he doesn’t see the big deal – he had meandered about on the internet via his phone earlier in the day, looking for advice of soothing squirmy, ill-resting babies. Jared thought there would be no harm giving this swaddling thing a shot…

Which was proven a positive thing to do now that he had done so. Their baby boy looks so cozy in his blue and white cocoon, the soft material and slight pressure of the wrapped blanket making Jensen look particularly blissed out. Satisfied, Jared rubs his nose against Jensen’s, urging those near-closed eyes to open and stay awake just for a moment longer.

‘‘Tylenol and some water first,’’ Jared informs those hazy, green eyes, ‘‘then you can sleep, Jensey.’’

‘‘I’ll see to it, babe,’’ Jeff speaks up.

‘‘Yeah?’’

Jeff murmurs an affirmative while throwing back the bedcovers and clambering into his side of the bed. Jared lingers a moment as Jeff sits with his back against the pillows and headboard. He’s a little reluctant to let go of the snuggly bundle in his arms, Jensen seems so much _smaller_ like this. Still, Jared wills himself to get a move on: the sooner he hands Jensen over, the sooner he can get ready for bed and join his family.

* * *

Jeff and Jared never did put him in his crib that night, or the next few nights.

Instead, Jensen found the nights following his tantrum taking on a routine of being bundled up like burrito and placed between Jared and Jeff. There was something grounding about being folded up in the soft, lightweight blanket with one of Honey’s soft ears tucked underneath his cheek. It was strangely nice, and while a little humiliating to admit, Jensen had come to discover a small, tummy-fluttery love for the bed-sharing experience.

Sure, Jared had a tendency to snore if he didn’t sleep on his side and, yeah, Jeff mumbled nonsense in his sleep, but the background noise became a comforting lullaby. It was good, especially when all he had to do was squirm until one or both of them a) found and returned his fallen pacifier, b) changed his diaper, or c) stroked a finger down the bridge of his nose until his eyes fell shut. He felt a little bad, being such a greedy nuisance, but Jeff and Jared always seemed so _happy_ , albeit groggy, when doing such acts. Yet, out of everything, Jensen liked it when he woke up throughout the night, when both older males remained asleep, leaving him to sleepily run a curious finger across the scar upon Jeff’s cheek, or the small moles by Jared’s nose, mouth and chin.

Yawning, Jensen half-wished it was bedtime already…

He was somewhat better from his bout of illness, just sleepy and still on boring foods. Banana slices, broth soups, plain noodles – Jensen sulkily huffed around his pacifier and longed to be fully well enough for rich, flavorful foods again. He guessed sleeping a lot was a good thing, though, a sign of recovery. Well, it was that or his current, peaceful location of lounging about between Jeff’s stretched out thighs upon the bed that was making him so dozy.

Jensen had been awake for only a few minutes yet, already, felt ready to drop off for another nap. He was snug between the muscled thighs framing his form and calm from the up-down motion of Jeff’s breaths where his head was rested against the man’s stomach. Still, from his current spot, he found himself distracted from the need to slip back into the realm of nod upon discovering a lack of Jared.

The floppy-haired man had been stretched out beside both him and Jeff when he had fallen asleep. All three of them were having a lazy day in the big bed – well, Jensen was and his daddies were keeping him company. Jared had put on an animated movie on the T.V that resided atop the dresser opposite the bed. It was something about a Mouse Detective called Basil, or something, Jensen had slipped off into sleep and, now, the movie had undoubtedly finished.

Half-asleep and more than a little wobbly, Jensen pushed himself up. He used Jeff’s legs to claw his way into sitting upright, his fingers catching in the soft, dark-blue denim of the older male’s jeans. Craning his neck, he peered towards the direction of the en-suite bathroom for signs of Jared…until Jeff’s large hand landed atop his head.

Attention diverted, Jensen tipped his head back to be granted the upside down view of Jeff. Not that he could see much of said man. The underside of an iPad tablet hid everything below Jeff’s eyes, but Jensen could tell Jeff was smiling even before he lowered the iPad. The slight curve of the skin around those brown eyes were obvious enough with their warmth, and he felt the calloused hand that had cupped his head slip down until ticklish fingers wiggled under his chin.

‘‘Hey, sleepyhead,’’ the dark-haired man beamed. ‘‘Did somebody enjoy his long nap?’’

Unable to help himself, he let out a _giggle_.

It should’ve been embarrassing, but Jensen barely noticed, far too busy trying to get away from Jeff’s fingers skittering against his neck. Jeff chuckled, the vibrations rumbling down Jensen’s spine, before he bent forth to place bristly, wet raspberry against Jensen’s cheek. The man’s goofy playfulness mingled with the unexpected sensation had Jensen squealing out a laugh so loud that, not only had his pacifier falling out, but he might’ve dribbled a bit.

Jeff didn’t seem to mind, though. The man just smiled fondly at him, snagged the near-by soft ‘swaddle’ blanket and used a corner to wipe away the trail of drool upon his chin. Only then, after popping the pacifier back in Jensen’s mouth, did Jeff gently pat at his stomach and chime, ‘‘happy, happy, baby.’’

He gave a soft hum, content and a little drained from his bout of activity.

‘‘Don’t you be closing those eyes again, sunshine,’’ Jeff tells him. ‘‘You’ve slept enough, and Daddy and I want you to sleep properly tonight.’’

With a grunt of denial (he would totally sleep tonight anyway) Jensen burrowed back into leaning against Jeff and swiveled his head about the bedroom. The mention of Jared had him noticing how weird it was with not having the floppy-haired giant here. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to ask, and Jeff seemed to be more focused on his iPad, again. Except, this time, the older male had placed the tablet on his thigh, allowing Jensen to see…

A very, very pretty young woman’s Facebook page.

Blinking, he peered close to the profile picture of a young woman who was, probably, around his age. She was a little bit chubby, but beautiful in the picture. She was smiling, eyes hidden behind huge sunglasses and shoulder-length, inky locks windblown –

‘‘You lookin’ at my Rosie, sweetheart?’’

Sputtering on his pacifier a little bit at Jeff’s wording, Jensen boggled. _My Rosie_? Jeff and Jared had expressed wanting a baby, but what if Rosie was Jeff’s daughter from another relationship or –

‘‘That’s my niece and your big cousin.’’

Oh, Jensen thought. Or, not.  
  
Strangely enough, he felt relieved knowing that he was only Jeff’s, and Jared’s, too, of course. Jensen knew that both men must’ve had families and that not everyone was like him, left abandoned to foster care. Still, the thought of sharing what he was developing with Jared and Jeff with someone else made his heart plummet.

‘‘She’s twenty-four and off ‘round Europe for the summer,’’ Jeff informs him, softly. ‘‘Facebook and calls are the only way I can keep in contact, and I don’t want to cramp her style by calling her too much. She just finished college doing some photography-thing,’’ he snorts, happy tone dipping, ‘‘another choice my dear big sister didn’t appreciate my support in.’’

Jensen looks up at Jeff then, because he knows that sad, bitter tone all too well. It’s a tone of voice that Jensen used when muttering to himself during the low moments of cursing his biological family. An annoyed, sad-sounding Jeff makes Jensen’s stomach flip and chest ache. So, naturally, he tries to fix that, and stretches his arms up to pat at Jeff’s furry face to hopefully elicit a smile.

He gains one, thankfully. As well as a brush of kisses against his fingertips and a gentle confession.

‘‘I’m okay, baby boy. Aside from Rosie, my family and I drifted apart a long time ago, but that’s okay, ‘cause I made my own. Papa’s got you and Daddy, and Daddy’s family, and Auntie Sam – ’’ Jeff pauses, his expression brightening further. ‘‘Ah, I’ve got an idea…’’

The man moves so fast with minimizing and opening things that Jensen’s eyes lose a little focus. Aside from the battered Nokia phone he got from one of his nicer foster parents, he never had much chance with the pricey pieces of technology. Sure, he had seen things like Xbox and Nintendo DS advertised, but he’d never craved the need for such materialistic things, far too busy focusing on getting the necessities to survive than the latest top gadget. Still, that doesn’t stop Jensen from jabbing a curious finger upon the sleek screen that is practically in his lap.

A light, almost surprised, gurgle escapes around his pacifier when the iPad emits a playful tune and a loading screen, complete with a grumpy red cartoon bird, appears.

‘‘No, no,’’ Jeff chuckles into his hair. ‘‘We can have a go on Angry Birds later, sunshine. Don’t you want to look at some pictures?’’

Yeah, Jensen thinks with a nod. He feels Jeff kiss his cheek before swiping away the Bird-thing he had accidentally opened. It doesn’t take long before Jeff is opening what looks like files, his fingers dancing across the screen and bringing up an array of mini-images. Within a series of blinks, Jensen finds himself looking down at a photograph of a large group of people at an ocean front property; they’re all seated on rocks or standing on the sand with a quaint-looking house visible behind them.

‘‘That’s our family…your family, too, ’’ Jeff tells him. ‘‘Well, that’s the bulk that you’ll be meeting soon. Daddy’s brother and sister live over in Texas, but they e-mail and Skype now and then.’’

Hearing the word _family_ makes Jensen’s throat feel a tight and, maybe Jeff heard the slight hitch in his breath, because the man curls over him and nuzzles the top of his head. He stutters out a small sigh, relaxing further into the touch, and watches how Jeff’s fingers pinch at the screen, zooming in on the people – and, Jensen recognizes some of the faces from the pictures on the living room walls. Yet, that isn’t all what catches Jensen’s attention.

Zooming in also highlights clear, crisp details that the snapshot. Namely, the action shows that the toddler-sized forms being held or standing in the sand aren’t real tots. Up close, you can see the faint crinkle of age by the smiling ‘little boy’s’ eyes or, in the case of the red-haired ‘girl’, the softened lines of curved hips. It’s so minor, but noticeable, that Jensen realizes that all four, small forms are Modified adult babies, not real toddlers.

Jensen notes the difference quiet clearly. While at a distance, people might not notice but, up close, the adult features and signs of age are visible. The two boys and two girls in the photograph look older than him, probably around Jared’s age. After all, Mods don’t reverse age and, for adult babies, Designer Modifiers mainly alter height, makes the subject turn into mini, proportional males or females and, often or not, softens the sharpness of a man’s jaw or a woman’s chest and hips.  
  
At least, that’s what Jensen has come to learn since Burbank.

He’s so busy staring that he doesn’t notice the click of the en-suit bathroom door opening and waft of steam signaling Jared’s reappearance. If anything, Jensen’s looking down at the selection of adults and adult babies, his eyes zeroing in on the image of his new parent’s standing side-by-side with their hands linked and arms thrown over the people standing beside him. He spots Sam tucked under Jeff’s arm, and he wants to ask questions, but he’s still reeling over the word _family..._

Hell, he barely hears Jeff’s voice pointing out the names of the four ‘little ones’. He just about catches the names Chris and Sandy when Jeff moves onto pointing out the frequently mentioned ‘Uncle Misha’ (the man with bright blue eyes). In fact, Jensen interrupts Jeff’s little slideshow of snapshots when he lets out a quavering whisper of,  
  
‘‘…‘amily.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ a new voice – _Jared’s_ voice – speaks up, ‘‘family. Our family.’’

Jensen’s pretty sure he turns his head around so fast that he gets whiplash. He doesn’t care, though. Jared is wearing a towel, scrubbing his hair with another and dripping a little over the bedspread as he grins at him. Suddenly feeling prickly hot, Jensen ducks his head, nervous – until Jeff’s hand nudges his chin up to look at both older men.

‘‘ _Jensen’s_ family,’’ Jared affirms with a smile.

And, Jensen…Jensen tries to ignore how his breath catches at the back of his throat at Jared’s words.

* * *

The house smells of Lysol disinfectant with a faint tang of lemon. It’s not an overpowering scent but, after spending the majority of the morning sanitizing the house, Jeff finds the smell remains clogged in his nostrils. He’d long ago opened the patio doors, urging the summer breeze to sweep through their home while he completed the tasks his husband had assigned to him. Still, being stuck in the utility room and surrounded by the whiff of detergent from Jared’s laundry spree didn’t really help clear Jeff’s sense of smell.

That said, even if he wanted to take a break and go chill on the decking outside, he couldn’t. Jeff wouldn’t dare rest when on such a limited time schedule of fixing the biggest crime known to parent-kind. A crime, Jeff noted, that he hadn’t been aware of until Jared pointed out that he probably should’ve _told_ Jensen beforehand…

It turns out Little One’s view washing their favorite animal as something akin to murder.

Jeff had, in all honesty, not thought twice about stuffing the rabbit plushie into the wash when Jensen had been eating breakfast. Admittedly, it was poor thinking on Jeff’s behalf. The look of betrayal Jensen had been giving him all morning had cut him deep – he hated being the bad guy. But Jared had been adamant in telling him to wash the grimy, honey-furred toy rabbit that had been a constant at Jensen’s side throughout his sickness. It was common sense that Honey the bunny needed to get washed; by the end of their baby’s illness the toy had retained the sickly-sweet smell of sickness and sweat along with a few sticky red dribbles of Tylenol.

Yet, Jeff is determined to fix this; to have this damnable bunny dry before Jensen wakes from his nap. It’s why he’s spent the better half of an hour running a hair-dryer over the fresh-smelling yet soggy Honey bunny. In fact, he’s in the middle of finishing his final task when the distant sound of Jared’s voice cuts through the air. Jeff can just barely hear the raucous tone over the whirr of the hair-dryer in his hand, let alone what his husband is saying.

So, it’s no surprise, really, that he doesn’t notice a certain someone has woken up from their nap until Jared’s in the kitchen, his voice full of mock terror as he calls out:

‘‘Oh no, where is my Jensen?’’

Jeff flicks off the hair-dryer and sets it down on the unit upon hearing the scrape of wooden chairs against stone tile. He’s still holding the relatively dry plushie and steps in line of the doorway to see his husband on his hands and knees, half-under the kitchen table. Jeff finds himself somewhat baffled, but highly entertained at the sight of Jared purposefully taking his time with whatever game he’s playing his their son. He can’t see anything but the younger man’s legs from around the kitchen counters, but he can hear Jared’s sing-songed call...

‘‘I see youuu!’’

Although Jeff can’t see the response Jared gains, he can hear the throaty giggles it receives from Jensen. He finds himself chuckling along, half-tempted to step into the kitchen for a better spot to spectate from. However, before Jeff can even step forward, the pitter-patter of tiny feet can be heard and, in mere moments, Jensen is tottering around the kitchen counters and into view. The little guy doesn’t notice Jeff right away – Jensen’s sole focus is on hiding by the kitchen island as Jared speaks up, once again, with dramatized lamenting of ‘losing’ Jensen.

Jeff, on the other hand, finds his attention latched onto the fact that their little man is healthy and happy. Jensen is a far cry from the sobbing, sickly boy he had been a handful of days ago and, now, is grinning widely around his pacifier. Silently, Jeff admires the sight his boy makes with his post-nap, sleep-fluffed hair and white, sleeveless bodysuit that remains unsnapped at the crotch.

A laugh escapes him upon noticing the latter; the short, front piece of material acts like a loincloth while the other, longer back piece hangs down like a set of tuxedo tails. His amusement is noticed, though, and – while Jared is nosily bumping his way out from under the table – Jensen’s green eyes swing towards him. The boy wastes no time with heading towards him, and Jeff feels himself melt at watching his son’s naturally adorable bowlegged toddle.

Instinctively, Jeff holds out Honey and is ready to bend and swoop Jensen up –

Until Jensen snags his beloved toy, avoids Jeff’s extended hands and, smoothly, drops down into a crawl. Jeff can only blink, bemused, and watch the small form slink between his legs and curl behind him. At least, he thinks Jensen is curled behind him. He can’t really move in fear of stepping on delicate fingers and, instead, can only assume Jensen’s half-hidden location due to the warm weight pressed against the back of his calf.

Still…Jeff supposes he is forgiven over the Honey incident.

‘‘Where, oh where could my Jensen be?’’

Upon hearing his husband’s fake wail, Jeff looks up. Apparently no longer trapped under the table, Jared is making a huge show of looking in cupboards while stepping closer and closer to the utility room. Eventually, Jeff finds himself being pulled into the mild game of Hide-and-Seek (or, whatever madness Jared is up to) when the taller man in question stands in the doorway of the utility room and sighs,

‘‘Has Papa seen our baby boy?’’

‘‘No, no,’’ Jeff says, laughter tinging his tone. ‘‘I’m sorry, Daddy. Jensen’s just…disappeared.’’

‘‘Awh, that’s too bad,’’ Jared physically sags against the wall. ‘‘I guess,’’ he sighs, shooting Jeff a wink, ‘‘it’ll just be me and you to go feed the duckies.’’

Jeff’s pretty certain he can feel Jensen murmuring ‘duckies’ against the back of his knee. Yet, just as he’s about to enquire about his sudden husband’s idea of taking Jensen out, a small head of golden-brown hair pops out from behind his leg. Jared lets out a gasp, feigning relief, while Jeff, unable to help himself, copies the same, lightly trilled tone his husband had used upon previously spotting Jensen.

‘‘There he is!’’ Jeff gives a clap of his hands and listens to Jensen giggle.

Only then does he scoop the boy up, holding him close and perching him on his forearm…where Jensen’s bare, soft-skinned bottom meets the dark hair of Jeff’s arm. Ignoring the whine he receives, Jeff plucks the hanging material at the back of the bodysuit, double-checking the skin-on-skin sensation with sight. He manages to catch a glimpse of his baby’s surprisingly plump backside before Jensen whines and wiggles.

‘‘Okay, okay,’’ Jeff says, fondly rolling his eyes. Honestly, it isn’t like he hasn’t seen or cleaned that little tush. But, anyway...‘‘What are you doin’ out of your diaper, mister?’’

‘‘That would be me,’’ Jared cuts-in with a sheepish grin. ‘‘He’s got a faint rash after his upset tummy, it’s mostly cleared up but…’’

‘‘Air does some good,’’ Jeff finished with a nod. ‘‘So,’’ he continues, ‘‘what’s this about feeding ducks?’’

‘‘Was thinkin’ we could test that stroller, go for a walk down the road.’’

‘‘Sounds good,’’ Jeff grinned. ‘‘What do you say, sunshine?’’

Jensen gave a happy, little squirm, and managed to worm his way higher up on Jeff’s shoulder. Securing his hold, Jeff clamped an arm around skinny thighs and placed an arm against the small back. In mere moments he found himself subjected to Honey’s furred face being smooshed against his cheek and lips in a clumsy likeness of a kiss.

He’d take that as a yes.


	11. Chapter 11

With the unpaved paths along the roadside crunching under the stroller’s rubber wheels, Jared falls into a lull.

It’s a hot afternoon, but pleasant. The sun is still high and the walk from their house to the place he has in mind isn’t all that far. Barely ten minutes into walking and a sense of relaxation fills Jared; the path they’re currently taking is one he knows well from his early morning jogs. It’s been a while since he’s bothered with going for a run, the lack of dogs around the house often made him stick to the treadmill or weights in the garage back at home. Only now, with the steady pace and faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, does Jared realize how much he’s missed his old routine.

‘‘Babe,’’ Jeff’s gentle call garners his attention.

Jared blinks. ‘‘Hmm?

Jeff has a smile playing on his lips as he inclines his head towards the stroller Jared is pushing. It’s only now does Jared notice the silence from their previously lively boy. Jensen had been particularly rambunctious since Jeff wrangled their Little into a diaper and clothes. Both he and Jeff had been amused and delighted at Jensen’s enthusiasm, even if their little guy had been too hyped up to be strapped into the stroller.

Still, the latter didn’t last long. After seemingly taking great delight in toddling midway down the lengthy driveway in his new shoes Jensen’s little feet began to drag – and Jeff had happily plopped the boy in his new stroller. Jared had to admit his husband had chosen a good, lightweight but sturdy stroller made up of a black and silver frame with a cerulean-colored seat. Jensen appeared to like it, too, as he swung his feet or fiddled with the attached trio of plush, ball-like toy birds that rattled or squeaked.

That said, now that Jared had slipped back into focus, he couldn’t hear his son’s movement or play.

Curious, he pulled back the hood and adjustable sun-visor of the stroller to peer down at the occupant. Almost instantly Jared had to hold back the bark of laughter at the sight of Jensen. Their little man was hugging Honey close and all but straining forward against the seatbelt straps of the stroller to look ahead. He doesn’t have to see Jensen’s face to know that the boy is probably doing the cute half-pout, half-frown expression of concentration around his pacifier

Almost as if sensing the sudden attention during their walk, Jared finds Jensen twisting in his seat to peer up at both himself as Jeff. He can’t help but smooth a hand over the soft, sun-warmed golden-crown and, idly, fret. Maybe he should’ve packed sunscreen or, better yet, a hat for Jensen? Summer is in full swing today and –

‘‘Unn!’’ Jensen manages to garble, cutting his thoughts short.

No matter how unintelligible Jared gets the gist of what his baby boy is saying around his pacifier. It’s pretty hard not to when Jensen’s got one little finger jabbing in the direction of the large, warped wooden sign a few feet ahead. Jared simply smiles at the local spot known as Belhaven; an old ranch-turned-country park that was total of twenty minutes from their home.

It’s basic, nothing like the suburban parks with jungle gyms and swing sets he’d like to take Jensen to in the future. Instead, Belhaven is mainly grassy flatland for sport and picnics, or the massive pond for fishing. The main source of attraction, though, happens to be the converted stables that form both a Café & Grill and quaint, but popular, Local Harvest store that sells produce from the neighboring farms.

Then, of course, there is the refurbished barn: the Beaver-Morgan warehouse.

The latter is Jeff and Jim’s pride and joy, the hub of their bespoke furniture company that acts both as a storage facility and store front for curious, local customers. Jared always feels a swirl of pride whenever his eyes land on the barn in question or, in the case of right now, the sign at the entryway of Belhaven. That said, for once he is less doting on his husband’s achievements when visiting Belhaven and, if anything, finds himself focused on the newest addition to their family.

‘‘Yeah,’’ Jared says, gleefully, ‘‘that’s where we’re going, sweetpea.’’

‘‘Gonna feed some duckies,’’ Jeff chimes in.

Although clearly nervous at the public setting, Jensen does seem happy to be out. Jared doesn’t understand where such nerves come from, it isn’t as if being an adult baby is frowned upon. Alas, he can only assume Jensen is merely shy over the prospect of other people, not the situation. Thankfully, his husband picks up on it and, as Jared pushes the stroller up the wide, dirt road and onto the property, Jeff diverts Jensen’s worries.

‘‘Quack, quack,’’ Jeff sounds out, one arm extended and hand formed to look like a beak. ‘‘Quack,’’ he continues, opening and closing his thumb and held together fingers to ‘peck’ at Jensen’s neck. ‘‘Go on, Jensey,’’ Jeff chuckles, ‘‘what do the duckies say?’’

Around his pacifier, Jensen begins to reply, his soft intonation of ‘‘Qua _aaa_ –’’ tapering off into a shriek when Jeff continues his ticklish antics. Jared snorts out a laugh at the pair, and glances past the modest parking lot and towards the converted barn and stables. Belhaven in quiet, but relatively busy in terms of a weekday afternoon as there are customers sitting outside the café, or people milling about on the grass, enjoying the sun.

Naturally, Jared makes a beeline towards the large pond which is, really, more of a mini-lake. He can see a few old men on the opposite side slumped in their foldable chairs and fishing, but it’s okay. Jeff’s actions have hyped Jensen up enough to not feel overly shy or self-conscious and, just as Jared stops by the picnic table closest to the pond, Jensen speaks up.

‘‘N-No!’’

‘‘Is that you’re favorite word?’’ Jeff’s voice is light, teasing, but Jared catches the longing.

For all that Jensen is becoming more vocal in his ‘little-self’s’ mindset, he still shows no signs of saying the wonderful words like Papa or Daddy. It’s still early days, Jared tells himself. There’s plenty of things to discuss and learn when it comes to Jensen. Still, he’s in the middle of yanking out the almost-stale loaf of bread from the basket beneath the stroller when a laugh bursts out of him at the pacifier-muffled yet petulant sounding, ‘‘No,’’ that meets his ears.

‘‘Cheeky Lil' fella, aren’t you?’’ his husband huffs.

Jared shakes his head, amused. ‘‘You’re pestering him, _that’s_ why he’s saying ‘no’.’’

‘‘Nonsense, babe! Jensen, tell Daddy to shhh.’’

‘‘Or,’’ Jared adds, rounding the stroller to crouch beside his husband and before their boy. ‘‘Or Jensey can say: bad, Papa. No feedin’ duckies for you.’’

Jensen, Jared notices, just looks at them both like their mad, slowly sucking on his pacifier before giving his feet a little kick. Taking the latter as a sign of impatience, Jared opts to unbuckle the little guy and pluck him out the stroller. He’s literally just set those tiny, Velcro-strapped shoes on the ground when Jensen makes a point of holding Honey away from Jeff.

‘‘Bad,’’ Jensen pipes up, prodding Jeff in the knee.

Ignoring Jeff’s flabbergasted expression, Jared lightly hits his husband on the arm, laughing. ‘‘Guess you’re still in the bad books for washing Honey, darlin’!’’

* * *

Feeding a bunch of birds shouldn’t be this exciting, but it is.

Jensen’s never done this before and, along with dragging out his sulk of Jeff taking Honey without permission, it’s kind of addictive. Uncaring of a few spectating strangers, he gets caught up with following Jared’s soft directions and tossing pieces of bread into the lake. Ducks, Jensen figures, make weird little noises other than ‘quack’, and he giggles to himself, beyond happy to be healthy and able to enjoy the moment.

How long he’s been indulging in this new activity, he doesn’t know. Aside from being shown how to throw bread or, the occasional instance of receiving a, ‘‘Ah-ah, not too close to the water,’’ from either one of his parents, time flies by. The sun is warm on his face and body, the cool breeze blowing his navy-colored shorts and yellow t-shirt. Content, Jensen wiggles his toes in his perfectly fitted shoes and softer-than-soft socks while dropping the last crumbs of bread.

‘‘All gone?’’ a gentle voice croons at him.

Unaware that he’s doing so, Jensen absent mindedly parrots back the two words while turning. Apart of him expects to see Jared, for the floppy-haired man had been crouched beside him for the majority of time. But no, it’s Jeff kneeling near-by this time while Jared is absent. His stomach does a weird flip-flop at Jared’s disappearance, yet he doesn’t dwell on it. He can’t really focus on the fleeting realization, anyway, not when a particularly loud _honk_ makes him flinch.

Whirling so fast on the spot that he topples down on his diaper-clad bottom, Jensen comes nose-to-beak with the noisy culprit. It’s a duck, obviously. Well, ducks, really…a slow hoard of them are waddling ashore. They crowd around him, loud and looking far more sinister that, for the briefest of moments, Jensen can only let out a croaky, ‘‘Uhhhhhh.’’

At least, until Jeff saves the day.

The second those large, work-roughened hands curl around his waist and hoist him back onto his feet, he breathes a little easier. A flutter of panic still remains, though. On land, the ducks seem bigger, more intimidating, especially when they crane their necks high. Still, Jeff is crouched behind him, curling around his back and bracketing Jensen with his arms and thighs.

‘‘Hey, hey, it’s okay, buddy,’’ Jeff tells him. ‘‘They’re just greedy duckies, that’s all. Okay?’’

‘‘U-Uh-huh…’’ Jensen nods, huddling further back.

Jeff’s lets out a rumbling chuckle and kisses his forehead. Just then, Jensen decides to not draw out his sulking with Jeff. He totally forgives the big, hairy guy and, after watching the ducks lose interest and wander off, tries to show his gratitude. It’s easier said than done, however, as Jensen forgot he still had his pacifier clamped between his teeth when he builds up enough confidence to pop a peck upon Jeff’s bristly chin. The man grunts a little from the impact, but grins so hugely it eases the twist of awkwardness in Jensen’s gut.

‘‘Thanks, sweetheart,’’ Jeff praises. ‘‘Although,’’ he smirks, ‘‘maybe give Papa kisses without bruising him with your binky next time?’’

Bashful, Jensen bobbed his head down. He fiddled with the baby-blue pacifier strap, complete with dotted red cars, for several beats. He managed to work up another attempt, this time minus the pacifier, and succeeded. Jeff was more than pleased, going so far to sprinkle his face with kisses and playfully scrub of facial hair against Jensen’s cheek. He laughed at the itchy-tickly feeling – until a familiar shadow fell over him.

‘‘Aw, I leave to use the restroom for a few minutes and miss out on kisses?’’

Jensen didn’t have to look to know it was Jared, but he did so any way. The towering, long-haired man was pouting as he flopped down on the grass in front of him and Jeff. Naturally, Jensen stepped forth, straight out of the loose circle of Jeff’s arms and towards Jared.

‘‘C’mere and give Dada some of those,’’ Jared coaxed, his voice a slight cheer.

And, with that, Jensen found his face captured by his daddy’s huge hands.

He yelped out a laugh the moment Jared planted the first of many kisses upon his face. The action was quick and fluttering; a mixture of tender and playfully messy kisses that Jared punctuated with _‘‘Mwah!’’_ sounds. Jensen couldn’t help but relish at the joyous, innocent affection that both men plied him with. It was nice, comforting, to be secure in the knowledge that Jared and Jeff only did things like this – kisses and snuggles and everything – to show their familial love in a manner he had craved for so, so long.

Jared’s antics came to an end too soon, though. At least, that’s what Jensen thought when he found himself sprawled on his back in Jared’s lap with the man finishing their goofing about with an Eskimo Kiss against his nose. Jensen happily took advantage of the moment, his small hands gripping Jared’s dimpled face to plant a kiss upon the mole by the man’s nose.

Albeit somewhat of a slobbery peck, Jared seemed just as ecstatic as Jeff had been.

* * *

‘‘We should’ve stopped by the Warehouse, y’know. Could’ve showed Jensey where his Papa works and meet Uncle Jim.’’

‘‘More like Grandpa Jim…’’

‘‘Hah! I _dare_ you to say that to his face.’’

Trying to keep his face straight, Jeff chuckled deeply at his husband’s comment. It was hard to not smile, though, especially when he knew Jim Beaver, the grouchy old man, would’ve kicked his ass over such a title. He’d definitely introduce Jim to his and Jared’s baby boy as ‘Grandpa’…although, maybe, he would use Jensen as a shield. Amused, Jeff managed to hold back a grin and settle with a smirk, eager not to accidentally cut himself when trimming down his facial hair.

He finished the task efficiently, his chocolate eyes catching the reflected view of the main bathroom in the partially steamed mirror. Jeff didn’t have to zero in on Jared and Jensen in the bathtub to know their Little One was enjoying himself. The sound of Jensen’s gentle splashing and soft was enough to know the boy had settled into his usual bath-time play. Still, Jeff securely placed away hair clippers and swiped away any stray hairs cluttering the sink as he spoke up to his husband.

‘‘We can swing by Belhaven next week, Jim’s truck wasn’t even there today…’’

‘‘Huh.’’

Smiling, Jeff nodded while shrugging off his clothing. ‘‘Yeah, Gen was probably left to run things at the Warehouse. Aldis emailed me few days back ‘bout a new contract he and Jim were gonna do over in the city…’’

He trailed off, not seeing the point in talking such boring business. According to Aldis, they had earned a contract with one of the bigger hotels wishing for some fitted wardrobes. It wasn’t the most exciting thing ever, but work like that paid well enough alongside their carved, specialty pieces of crafted goods. That said, after such a pleasant day Jeff wanted nothing more than to join his family with a soak in the tub – which he did, after kicking his jeans and underwear aside.

Once slumped down amidst the bubbles and warm water, Jeff found himself greeted by Jensen. That is, if you counted being greeted as being turned into a human shelf. Their little guy seemed quite content to wade through the water to place one of his many bath toys upon Jeff’s upraised left knee. He wasn’t the only one, though. Jeff considered himself lucky with only having to balance a purple hippo while his husband, with his back facing the wall and arms draped across the tiled ledge by the tub’s rim, had an array of toys propped on his shoulders and forearms.

‘‘Well,’’ Jeff said, ‘‘this is…new.’’

‘‘My thoughts exactly,’’ Jared beamed at him.

And Jeff could practically _hear_ Jared’s unspoken glee bringing up the mention of Jensen’s recent progress of initiating physical contact via innocuous kisses. Their silent commutation skills had always been a part of them as a couple, but having a baby in their lives had seemed to increase such a skill by tenfold. Now, though, all Jeff could feel was his husband’s bubbling joy, be it over Jensen’s weird balancing game or further improvement.

Still, Jeff slipped his focus back to Jensen by asking, ‘‘what game is this, sunshine?’’

Jensen didn’t say anything, just smiled shyly behind the chubby, red crab he seemed to favor before cheekily it placing atop Jeff’s hand. Jared let out a laugh at that, something that Jensen didn’t appreciate when all his hard work toppled off Jared and into the water. Their baby boy pouted adorably, and Jeff felt his grin stretch further. Maybe it was the lighting but, just now, he was able to notice how the small spray of freckles across Jensen’s nose stood out more than usual against the pink tinge.

Finding himself captivated by the highlighted speckles, Jeff playfully thumbed his son’s little nose. ‘‘Somebody’s caught some rays today, eh?’’

Unimpressed, Jensen scrunched his face up.

‘‘Ah-ah, none of that, handsome boy,’’ Jared cooed.

‘‘That’s right, you listen to your daddy,’’ Jeff added, carefully scooping the littlest of the trio into his arms. He settled Jensen down into cradled position, his head near the crook of his arm and closest to Jared. ‘‘Now,’’ he wheedled, ‘‘let’s give you scrub, yeah?’’

‘‘Hair first,’’ Jared sing-songed.

The hum of agreement Jensen produced was so loud it was a near purr. He and Jared exchanged smiles over their boy, their eyes alight with amusement at the way Jensen splashed his feet while expectantly tilting his head further back over Jeff’s arm. It really didn’t take a genius to know how much their boy liked his scalp rubbed tenderly.

* * *

When Jensen woke some point through the night his first thought was: alone.

He was alone and back to being in his crib; no longer was he nestled snuggly between his daddies and indulging in their surrounded touch and company. It was odd, and a little disappointing, but understandable. Jensen knew both men had pandered to him longer than necessary after his stomach flu, they probably could’ve dumped him in his crib after the second day. Still, the faint pang of upset in his chest wasn’t the reason he had woken up at some forsaken hour.

No, Jensen sleepily recalled, Daddy and Papa had been overly encouraging about getting him tucked into his crib.

They called him smart and beautiful and brave. Hell, even after his bottle, Jeff didn’t just read one bed-time story, but two. And, when Jensen remained clinging to consciousness, Jared didn’t flick on the night-light and baby monitor and simply leave him. Instead, the long-haired man merely swaddled him, held him close, and hummed the familiar, wordless tune while swaying in the dimness of the nursery.

The latter tactic had obviously worked, for Jensen couldn’t remember much after listening to the vibrations leaving Jared’s throat. It was only now, half-awake and realizing his solitary location, that he wondered what woke him up. Snuffling against his mattress, Jensen idly recognized the damp warmth surrounding his crotch, leaving him to assume he had woken up due to a wet diaper – not that in itself was unusual, he had been getting better about not noticing his bladder letting go. It probably helped that, since his bout of diarrhea, pissing wasn’t such a huge deal in comparison.

Yet, as he sat up, a whimper already on his lips to beckon a diaper change, Jensen noticed something else. His damp diaper felt less wet and more…sticky. He had peed enough in his diaper to know he never felt pasty after peeing; it was always wet snugness, nothing else. For all that Jensen was still partially asleep, drifting between the babyish thoughts of wanting Daddy or Papa, his adult-mindset still remained…

And you didn’t reach the age of twenty-three to not know what the tacky sensation of ejaculate felt like on your junk.

Grimacing, Jensen wanted to do nothing more than throw away the evidence soiling his diaper and curl up. Amidst being captured, adopted and, willingly, fitting-in with his new family, he had forgot about certain bodily reactions. Nocturnal emissions – that’s what Mr. Parson, his at-the-time foster father, had called them during that first, startling experience of having one at thirteen. Jensen felt his face flame at the memory of the old man who explained things and his ditzy, fluttery wife who barely batted an eye and cleaned his bed sheets.

It was all so long ago but, whenever he experienced the sticky unpleasantness over the years, thoughts and memories were raked up. Not all past incidents revolving around wet dreams had been as reassuring as Mr. and Mrs. Parson’s casual reactions. Jensen could recall events…like his six-month stay at the Kelly’s and how their older, biological son, Brock, had made his life a misery at home and school upon finding out Jensen, at fifteen, didn’t ‘jerk off’ given his occasional accidents. Then, of course, there was the incident a few years down the line – a new town, a new state, a new family – and he dated a sweet girl called Jess, who promptly dumped his ass upon discovering his avoidance and obvious disinterest in sex.

She had been particularly bitter, the words of ‘freak’ still ringing in his ears after all these years. It wasn’t as if he didn’t try masturbation and whatnot, it was just sex in any form never appealed to him, merely made him feel uncomfortable. That wasn’t to say Jensen was adverse to touch. If anything, once he found someone to trust, he wholly loved receiving innocuous hugs and kisses.

Which was probably why he clicked so well with Jared and Jeff, and why Jensen was quite happy to cling to the men like a limpet. No matter how mortifying it was, at times, the pair gave Jensen all that he needed in a nice, tidy little package under the label of ‘adult baby’. Yet, upon thinking of his current diaper dilemma, he cringed over the possibilities of Jeff and Jared’s reaction…

Disgust? Anger?  
  
Where so-called ‘babies’ allowed to come in their diapers, no matter how accidental?

Jensen wasn’t even aware he was whining into the softness of Honey’s head until two, large hands plucked him out of his crib.

* * *

‘‘Hush, now,’’ Jared soothed, ‘‘Daddy’s here.’’

He squinted a little in the dimness and settled Jensen against his chest. The restless movement and soft complaints via the baby monitor had led him towards the nursery. Apart of him expected to find his baby boy needing a bottle, or diaper change. Yet, upon giving Jensen’s padded rear-end an investigatory squeeze, Jared felt nothing but the dry plumpness of an unused diaper and –

The near flinch he received from Jensen.

Immediately, Jared found his brain sparked fully awake by worry. The only logical step he had towards Jensen’s 1:34AM wake-up call and jumpy reaction came down to injury or illness. After taking a cursory feel of his little one’s forehead, he assumed it might’ve been the latter given his lack of temperature and unusual jolt from having his bottom touched. Naturally, his mind trickled back to Jensen’s faint diaper rash and, despite knowing it had been nearly cleared up, decided to check the rash hadn’t spread or gotten worse.

Jared silently worked about setting Jensen down on the changing table, keeping his eye out for quivering lips and tearful eyes as he popped the buttons of the puppy-dog dotted sleeper open. Jensen showed no upset or usual embarrassment and, aside from giving at shiver from the cool air meeting sleep-warmed skin, remained shockingly stoic. Frowning, Jared didn’t know whether to feel relief or further worry when, upon peeling open the diaper, Jensen buried his face into Honey’s fuzzy belly.

Even in the soft glow of the owl nightlight it was easy to notice the absence of a rash and spot what the problem was…though Jared wouldn’t have called it a problem. If anything, he let out a relieved sigh that Jensen wasn’t in pain and expertly cleaned him up. Natural or Modified, all young children explored themselves to seek pleasure: he’d heard enough humorous tales from both his older brother’s natural kid, Lucas, and the sniggered comments from Mike or Vicki and their own Modified Little Ones.

He shook his head with a mix of amusement and disbelief. ‘‘Nothin’ wrong with doing stuff like this in private, baby boy,’’ Jared says, keeping his tone light. ‘‘Perfectly natural, don’t you worry. Even Lil’ Ones like you do this to relax, or enjoy – ’’

‘‘No.’’

The interjection from Jensen was more a rasped mutter than anything else. Jared stalled, eyebrows drawing together as he caught sight of a lone, green eye peeking out between Honey’s arm and leg. It was unsteady ground when it came to the unknown and, it was moments like this, that Jared wished he knew more about Jensen’s past. He didn’t know if Jensen was guilty with shame, (had he been taught to feel as such from his many foster families?) or simply embarrassed, or…something else.

‘‘O-kay,’’ Jared said slowly, carefully. ‘‘Just know that this – ’’ he nodded his head towards the rolled up, used diaper – ‘‘is fine.’’

Jensen squirmed, eyes averted, and Jared went about putting on a fresh diaper and re-dressing his nervous little babe. He was in the middle of sanitizing his hands when he heard it. ‘It’ being the barely audible, half-slurred confession that escaped from around Jensen’s finger suckling mouth.

‘‘Buh– but I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like… _it_. Never have so, so that’s why, s-sometimes, my…’’

‘‘Your body does what is natural,’’ Jared finishes. ‘‘Either way, it’s all fine, it’s all good, sweetpea. You can like or don’t like what you want.’’

‘‘S’not normal, though…People are meant to like that stuff.’’

Jared can’t help but frown at that. ‘‘You’re perfectly normal with feeling how you feel,’’ he firmly tells his boy.

‘‘Yeah?’’ Jensen croaks, voice raw and… _pleading._

It’s almost like Jensen was expecting insult or rejection over his confession, almost as if he thought Jared would frown at his orientation of – well, Jared doesn’t like using labels, but, yeah. Asexual, or whatever. It doesn’t matter to Jared, and he feels his face soften and heart melt at whoever or whatever made Jensen think not being inclined to sexual acts was abnormal. If anything, this minor discovery merely makes Jared realize that he and Jeff really do have the perfect, innocent baby.

He doesn’t even think twice about picking Jensen back up and crushing his tiny form against his chest. Holding the little baby close, Jared gives a few reassuring pats and pecks, determined to show nothing is awkward or different. In fact, Jared pauses, nervous, before affirming:  
  
‘‘Yeah. You’re Daddy and Papa’s perfect little man, y’know? We love you.’’

Saying the L-word was something Jared had held back with saying. Even Jeff was in the same frame of mind. They didn’t want to push too much, too soon. And, given the way Jensen’s breath hitches, Jared thinks he should’ve held back with telling him what both he and his husband had felt since meeting Jensen. That said, the small arms tightening around his neck give mixed signals and –

‘‘Y’don’t even know me,’’ Jensen grumbles into his ear.

 _Ah_ … Jared smirks a little, his anxiety dipping. Mixed signals are confusing, but insecure grumpiness? Yeah, Jared can handle that.

‘‘What parent does know their new baby?’’ he speaks softly. Ignoring the protest, he adds, ‘‘and that’s what you are. You’re our new baby and we love you. Lots and lots.’’

That gets Jensen to wiggle in his arms and peer up at him. The boy’s eyes look wide and glassy with unshed tears, one arm still slung around Jared’s neck while the other is curled around the plush rabbit. The expression is disbelief, plain and simple, and Jared presses a kiss to his son’s temple before heading towards the crib. He can feel Jensen’s eyes upon him the whole time as he goes about collecting the tangled swaddle and abandoned pacifier.

It takes a bit of balancing to keep Jensen in one arm and shake out the swaddle blanket, but he manages to complete the task easily after holding the pacifier ring between his teeth. After that, Jared drops down on the rocking chair tucked in the corner and half-hidden by the crib. He gets his Little settled: replacing the spit-slicked finger in Jensen’s mouth with the pacifier before sloppily bundling him in his swaddle and rearranging both toy bunny and baby into his arms.

Only then, seated and settled, does he continue their little talk.

‘‘Besides, me and Papa can only know what you tell us, Jensey. You can ask or tell us anything at any time you want, okay?’’ He earns a small nod in response. ‘‘Good, good,’’ Jared chirrups, ducking forward to bury his nose in the soft, infantile-smelling hair. ‘‘All Daddy knows ‘bout his baby boy is from what he’s learned…’’

‘‘Like wha’?’’ Jensen mumbles around his pacifier.

Smiling against Jensen’s golden-brown crown, Jared feigns thoughtfulness with a loud humming noise. It earns him a brief snort of amusement from his boy and, pulling back, he offers Jensen a wide grin. The little man doesn’t look so horrified or nervous now, only curiously shy, sleepy and, above all, relieved.

‘‘Well,’’ he begins, cheerfully. ‘‘I’ve learned that my Jensey is a sucker for Oreo cookies – which I’ll forgive, by the way, ‘cause you haven’t tasted my homemade cookies, yet. Then, of course, there’s the fact I think you have a soft spot for dinosaurs and…Oh! I know that, no matter how me or Papa put you to bed, we’ll always find you sleepin’ tummy down with your legs tucked under you and _this_ – ’’ Jared couldn’t help but snigger and pat the diaper-clad rump ‘‘ – up in the air.’’

‘‘No way,’’ Jensen denied, his face reddening.

‘‘Yes way,’’ Jared sang, chuckling lightly. ‘‘And I’m learnin’ lots of other things, like how my humming sends you off to sleep.’’

Although surprised, Jensen did snuggle closer to his chest. Jared smiled, rocking back and forth in the chair for several beats until he heard his baby break out a yawn. It was upon hearing such a sleepy sound that he decided now would be a great time to show proof in his last comment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 24hr Double update...'cause, like, you guys are lovely.

‘‘Back then, your daddy was a beanpole and my hair was pure black.’’

Jensen smiled around the remains of his popsicle at the start of Jeff’s tale. Since his heart-to-heart with Jared days prior, he couldn’t help but take the incentive to ask his parents the occasional, curious questions. He didn’t feel ready to talk about himself, but he had been working his way up to asking his daddies the more serious questions, having previously been asking silly things like: what was Jeff’s favorite animal? ( answer: _‘‘a dog, but manatees come a close second.’’_ ) and what’s with all the empty gummi bear packets in the trash? (answer: _‘‘Daddy has a sweet-tooth.’’_ )

Or, in regards to now, the serious question of: how did you two meet?

‘‘I met him during his first week within moving into town,’’ Jeff continues, tone wistful. ‘‘He was a year outta college and needed a change of scenery after working for a publishing house in LA – only moved here ‘cause he knew your Uncle Mike and Tom from college. Long story short, Jensey, you could say your Uncle Misha played cupid the day he both booked Harley and Sadie in his veterinary practice the same time he said he’d check-up my Bisou…’’

Sucking the remaining flavor out of the wooden popsicle stick, Jensen scooted across the kitchen floor on his bottom. He was naked, save his diaper, and the tiles beneath him were lovely and cool in comparison to the heat outside. Besides, he liked finding out new things about his parents, even if it – currently – made his papa go all mushy while talking and finishing with placing items from the fridge into the canvas tote-bag.

Craning his neck, he ignored the stickiness on his face and hands from his tasty treat and kept an eye on the cherry filled, lattice-top pie.

‘‘Don’t give me those eyes, bud,’’ Jeff chuckled, catching Jensen off guard. ‘‘I gave you that popsicle ‘cause we can’t have any of Daddy’s pie until we get to Auntie Sam’s barbeque.’’

Jensen didn’t bother hide his annoyance at that; he huffed…and might’ve pouted.

‘‘I know, I know, Papa’s a big meanie and Daddy,’’ Jeff paused, a wiry smile taking over his face, ‘‘well, Daddy’s goin’ to have a fit seeing the state of you, sunshine.’’

‘‘Am I, now?’’

Recognizing Jared’s amused tone, Jensen hastily clambered to his feet to greet the other male. He just about got two steps away from Jeff when Jared came strolling around the kitchen counter and, to avoid stumbling into the man’s legs, opted to plop back down on his diaper-clad backside. The floppy-haired male was all smiles, fresh from the shower and wearing dark cargo shorts and a baby-pink shirt over a white, v-neck tee.

The sight of that pink shirt reminded Jensen of the ugly, pink monstrosity Jared had worn during their meeting in Burbank. It also made him feel, strangely enough, grabby. Like, he just wanted to bundle himself against the pink-shirt that reminded him of security. Hell, Jensen wasn’t even aware he had his arms raised towards Jared until the towering man looked down at him with a torn expression between amused and horrified.

‘‘Christ,’’ the floppy-haired man breathed, ‘‘what did Papa give you?’’

‘‘It was just a popsicle, babe,’’ Jeff chuckled, bending down to remove the stick in Jensen’s mouth.

‘‘More like a neon-blue explosion!’’

Actually, Jensen thought, it was blue-raspberry flavor.

Or, at least, the remains of one. He could feel the sticky residue were it had dripped down his chin and chest. Still…Jensen blinked down at the goopy remains upon his hands before popping the blue-tinged digit in his mouth. He hummed, happy for the flavor…

‘‘Chill, Jay, chill,’’ Jeff rumbled out a laugh. ‘‘We’re not running late and it isn’t like he was dressed.’’

Jared just shot his husband a frown before dropping a bundle of clothing on the kitchen counter and, gingerly, picking Jensen up. He couldn’t hold back the whine at being dangled away from Jared’s body, the urge to curl close and snuffle against the pink shirt was still there. The long-haired male kept their distance, though, placing him on the countertop, beside the bundle of tiny, new clothing.

Momentarily distracted, Jensen looked at the outfit chosen for today’s dreaded event. He just about got a glimpse of a short-sleeved yet thinly striped red-and-white bodysuit and light-denim overall shorts before finding his face assaulted with a damp cloth, courtesy of Jared.

‘‘Ick – !’’ Jensen tried to complain and move, but resistance was futile.

‘‘Stay still, mucky pup,’’ Jared tutted.

‘‘Yeah,’’ Jeff, the traitor, chimed in. ‘‘The sooner we get you cleaned and dressed, the sooner you can meet your most of your aunts, uncles and cousins.’’                                                                           

Wrinkling his nose, Jensen didn’t like the sound of that. They’d been talking about this meet-and-greet barbeque since yesterday, dropping hints and reassurances about how fun it would be to meet the others who Jared and Jeff called ‘family’. Now that the dreaded event was here, Jensen didn’t know what to do or how to be when it came to meeting the people he had seen within the photograph Jeff had shown him

Besides, it was one thing to ignore strangers, but it was completely different when it would be people who he’d be probably seeing a lot of. Nerve-wracking, that’s what it was. He felt sickly just thinking about it, his previous hunger dipping drastically as his stomach swirled uncomfortably. Jensen found himself zoning out a little bit, blankly watching Jared wipe down his hands as numb anxiety began creeping through his veins and bubbling up –

Well, right up to the point until Jared lifted his now-clean body up and into his arms. The familiar sensation of those arms around him, complete with affection pat to his butt, calmed him. He sighed, tension draining as he rubbed his cheek against the soft material of Jared’s pink shirt.

‘‘It’ll be fine, fella,’’ Jeff told him, somehow just _knowing_.

Jared bounced him a little, humming in agreement. ‘‘Papa’s right, sweetpea. Now, let’s get you in a fresh diaper and dressed, yes?’’

Despite nodding, Jensen strategized that, maybe, just maybe, he’d just hide in his daddy’s arms for this whole event…?

* * *

Getting to Sam’s suburban property was a quick and easy task for Jeff. The route to 54, Watertrough road, was only a stone’s throw away from Vicki and Misha’s place and ingrained enough in his brain to avoid busy, Saturday afternoon traffic. It probably only took fifteen minutes in the car yet, somehow, it felt longer given Jensen’s visible nervousness and heavy silence.

Their boy remained that way right up until Jared, with his hands occupied with pie in one hand and a tote-bag of food in the other, suddenly attacked mid-walk up Sam’s paved driveway. Not that you could really call it an attack – Jeff found his husband more puppyish in his exuberance with his unexpected attempt to break Jensen’s nerves. The younger, floppy-haired man had all but pounced upon Jeff and his precious, living cargo before proceeding to stoop low and use his only way of touch with his hands occupied…

Which, Jeff noted, turned out to be Jared’s mouth.

There was nothing odd about it, really. The pair of them were guilty in the activity of frequently drawing out laughter by blowing raspberries or kisses on Jensen’s tummy, flanks and, more than once, feet. However, the look upon his son’s face the moment Jared dived low to mouth at Jensen’s kneecap and calf was _priceless_. Jeff swallowed back the bark of laughter at it all, especially the boy’s startled expression: eyes wide, eyebrows drawn up and pacifier almost falling out of his slack jaw.

‘‘Nom, nom,’’ Jared sounded out. ‘‘I’m so hungry I’m goin’ to eat these Lil’ legs!’’

Pretend cannibalism, ticklish sensation, or the sheer absurdity of the act – Jeff didn’t know – but one or all three had Jensen emitting a faint, almost cooed, laugh.

‘‘Or, should I eat these cute ears?’’ Jared continued with a wide grin.

Jeff let out a deep laugh at the giggle-shriek Jensen’s produced. The sound eased the ache in his chest and he watched, amused, as Jared finished his playfulness by blowing a raspberry against the side of Jensen’s neck. Shifting his hold upon his squirmy son, Jeff caught his husband sending him a relieved smile of his own. Jensen, however, didn’t catch onto their shared glances, too busy with hugging Honey and fiddling with the strap of the paci-clip with the other.

Content, and a little confident no tears would be shed, he pressed a kiss on his husband’s mouth before moving closer to Sam’s two-story home. Jeff didn’t bother with the doorbell, not when both he and Jared were old hands at their usual meet-ups and headed towards the wooden gate that led into the backyard. He could smell the lit barbeque and hear the sound of distant conversation way before he got close enough to unlatch the gate.

Hell, he had barely crossed the threshold from where the narrow path alongside the house met the open expanse of the patio when he found himself greeted by a series of joyous shouts. Jeff could almost _feel_ Jensen’s heart stutter at the loud noise. He paid no attention, though, not wanting Jensen to feel shy under more speculation and, instead, idly swayed on the spot to soothe his baby boy while offering the familiar faces of their hodgepodge family a grinned greeting.

Minus the Little Ones, almost everyone appeared to be seated under the shaded patio table. Misha and Vicki’s boys, Chris and Steve, were over in the grassy area of the garden with Tom and Mike’s firecracker of a daughter, Danneel. The trio of Modified adult babies were more focused on playing some sort of intense game in the sandbox to notice their arrival. The only people missing were probably running late, a usual occurrence for –

‘‘Alona and Milo will be here soon with Sandy,’’ Sam said, and Jeff _almost_ jumped. He hadn’t seen her standing by the kitchen’s backdoor. ‘‘Ooo,’’ she smiled, eying the tote-bag and pie, ‘‘is that for me?’’

‘‘The bottle of wine in there is for you, Sam,’’ Jared answered. ‘‘Pie and potato salad and other goodies is for sharing.’’

She tsked, looking extremely put-out as Jeff rolled his eyes and added, ‘‘you’re gettin’ gluttonous in your old age.’’

Sam’s response resulted in him getting a rather nasty glare that silently said: _I’m a year younger than you, you dick_.

Had he not been holding Jensen, Jeff was certain his joking comment might’ve earned him a dead arm. As it was, Sam settled with scowling before offering Jared a hug and ushering the towering, younger man into depositing the food on the kitchen counter beside the other side dishes. Only then, Jeff noted, did his long-term female friend zero in on the one person that was currently the focus of everyone’s attention: Jensen.

‘‘Look at you, big boy,’’ she smiled at the little guy in Jeff’s arms. ‘‘You’re fightin’ fit and it looks like you’ve gained some much needed weight.’’

‘‘You think?’’ Jeff found himself asking, looking for reassurance.

Lord knew their baby boy needed to put on some weight, both he and Jared had worried Jensen had lost weight during his tummy bug. But, Sam was nodding, her face bright and eyes alight with… _something_ as she looked at Jensen. The green-eyed boy in question was busy burrowing his way under Jeff’s chin and, given the tilt of Sam’s head, must’ve been looking at her. He was just about to question her when she broke into a huffed laugh.

‘‘Damn, Jeff. He really is shy.’’

He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. ‘‘We did tell you.’’

‘‘Yeah, you did,’’ Sam sighed, her eyes still upon Jensen. She reached out, using a slim finger and gentle sweep to brush a tuft of Jensen’s hair aside. ‘‘You remind me a little of my Gabe, sweetie. He was shy, too. I think you would’ve liked him.’’

Ah, Jeff felt his shoulders sag. That explained the glint in Sam’s eyes.

Gabriel had been Sam’s Little One for, almost, twelve years before he passed. Jeff had the pleasure of knowing both the adult-sized ‘baby’ and, later on, the Modified babe that had been the center of Sam’s world until Gabe’s unexpected passing five years ago. Hell, the kid had been the center of his and Jared’s world, too…it had hit the entire group hard. In fact, it was only these past two years in which Sam had returned to her job at the hospital; not that Jeff blamed her for her mourning…

‘‘Wanna hold him?’’ Jeff found the words leaving him on their own accord.

Sam snapped out of her dimmed mood, shock evident on her face. Even Jeff, for all that he offered and extended Jensen towards her, was shocked. The offer had just spilled out of him. Still, Jensen let out no protest, probably picking up on the unspoken undercurrent of their conversation and Jeff, for all that he loved his little boy, discovered he couldn’t love Jensen even more than right now. His and Jared’s little one was simply the best.

And that wasn’t a view from the blind love of an infatuated father.

Because Jeff could feel the worry flood Jensen’s small form yet, in spite of this, the little guy let Sam tentatively scoop him out of Jeff’s arms. His baby boy was so caring, so empathetic, that he hardly fussed in Sam’s hold. If anything, Jensen merely sucked a little harder on his soother and kept his nervous, green gaze on Jeff. Naturally, he couldn’t help but run a knuckle against his son’s cheek and beam.

* * *

‘‘So, _this_ is the famous Jensen we've all been getting texts about!’’

‘‘He’s adorable, guys.’’

‘‘We’re so happy for you two, y’know.’’      

Jensen’s face had already been glowing with a blush way before he found himself in ‘Auntie’ Sam’s arms. Yet, now, he felt like his face was so hot it was going to melt off. Being held by Sam wasn’t too bad, but it created a reaction amongst the other ‘grown-ups’ around the patio table. He soon found himself being caught up in being passed around, introduced to an array of faces that were only familiar from the photographs he had previously seen.

To say the least, it was awkward. Holding Honey close and focusing on the rubber teat of his soother upon his tongue eased his anxiety, though. Still, it would’ve been easier to give into the strange need to whine and return to the comfort of one of his daddies’ arms, he stayed strong. Plus, Jeff and Jared kept grinning at him, coaxing small smiles out of him as he went from soft-handed Sam, to curly-haired Tom. Jensen did, however, kick up a small fuss when being handed to one of his many ‘Uncles’, Tom’s partner, Mike.  
  
Mike, unlike the photo he had seen of him, wasn’t shaved bald and, instead, had a short, bristly hair and five o’clock shadow. The man also had no filter, his first words being: _‘‘Modified, or not, he’s kinda small, don’t you think?’’_

Jensen had promptly scowled, wriggling, until Mike hastily passed him onto ‘Auntie’ Vicki.

The woman looked just like she did in the photographs around home; dark hair and glasses. Jensen happily let her neatly tuck him onto her lap, unsure if his reaction was relief at being closer to Jeff’s seated spot around the table, or the distraction of Vicki’s husband. Misha, Jensen noted, had bluer eyes in person than he did in the photos…and he couldn’t help but stare at the man’s funny expression.

‘‘Well, hello there,’’ Misha said, fingers wiggling towards him.

It turned out this particular ‘Uncle’ would be the weird one. Weird, but funny in the same way Jared could be a total goof. Upon thinking of his daddy, Jensen felt an achy pang in his chest upon eying the empty seat beside Jeff. Jared had yet to return to the table, having previously disappeared to play and run about the lawn with a trio of Modified Littles that Sam had pointed out as being Chris, Steve and Danneel.

Either way, Jensen had a giggle escaping from behind his pacifier way before Misha’s hands came in contact of his belly. He didn’t pay much attention to what was being said around him, yet he was aware of the amused tone of the voices. In fact, Jensen far too busy being lightly jostled by Vicki’s laughter and Misha’s sudden, playful interest in complimenting Jensen’s plain socks –

‘‘Momma!’’ a loud cry made Jensen jump and surrounding conversation fall into a lull. ‘‘Momma, Momma!’’

It didn’t stop there, though. Not when another two, different voices chimed in, their calls unintelligible but growing louder upon approach. Jensen, anxious over the sudden ruckus, let out a whine, unaware he had even done so until Vicki gave him a light bounce on her lap.

‘‘That’ll be your cousins,’’ she told him.  
  
‘‘They’re loud little monsters, huh?’’ Misha added, sniggering.

Very loud, Jensen thought with a wince.

Thankfully, along with the noisy troupe came Daddy. The long-haired man had grass in his hair and a dimpled grin on his face as he clapped his hands towards Jensen. Jared wasted no time with gathering him up in his arms, away from Vicki and towards the free seat beside Jeff. He gained a fleeting kiss in the process and, before the hoard fully descended upon them, Jensen was perched on Jared’s thigh and curling his fingers into the soft, pink material of Jared’s over-shirt.

He peeked at the trio of Modified adult babies that burst onto the scene and zeroed in on the first noise-maker; a stocky, brown-haired male with blue eyes known as Chris. For all that the stout, Modified male was a man, he acted like a natural toddler. Jensen could only blink, half-intrigued and half-stunned, at the sight of the other ‘boy’ scrambling between Misha and Sam’s chairs, darting directly towards Vicki

‘‘Momma, Uncle Jay said baby Jenny is here!’’ was the continued stream of noise.

That is, until another ‘boy’ with a Snoopy t-shirt followed suit. This one was Steve, Jensen realized and compared, had equally longish hair as the former, yet bleached lighter in tone by the sun. The long-haired duo looked relatively alike with their grass-stained clothing of shorts and t-shirts as they gravitated around Vicki and Misha.

‘‘Jenny, hm? Is that what you’re calling him?’’ Vicki broke out into a smile. ‘‘He’s just there, sweetie.’’

Misha sat forward in his chair, teasing. ‘‘We’ve all been keeping Jensen all to ourselves, getting cuddles. He’s been here for a while.’’

‘‘Not fair!’’ Chris seemed to puff up. ‘‘ I wan– ’’

‘‘Naughty, Daddy!’’ Steve interjected with a scowl towards Misha.

‘‘Yeah!’’ a new, higher toned voice agreed.

The latter made Jensen jolt at the unexpected, close proximity. He had been so caught up in watching that he didn’t notice the redheaded girl – a woman, really, – until now. Sam said that the fellow adult-baby was Danneel, and the girl in question was smiling impishly from her spot between Jared and Mike’s chairs.

‘‘Well,’’ Jared playfully nudged Danneel, ‘‘you were busy playin’.’’

Jeff rumbled out a chuckle towards her. ‘‘And you can see Jensen now, petal.’’

‘‘Yuh-huh, I s’pose – ’’

And Jensen promptly tuned out her soft, babyish speak.

Something ugly and hot twisted about in his tummy at hearing Jared’s tone and Jeff’s nickname. He frowned, teeth worrying away at the teat of his pacifier…Daddy spoke to him like that and Papa called him nicknames, too. He hadn’t heard Jared use that tone with anyone else. It felt weird and, dare Jensen admit it, unsettling to know their soft, fond tones and nicknames weren’t solely reserved for him.

He told himself not to think too deeply into it all – it wasn’t like Jeff had called her Sunshine, or Jared treated Danneel any differently than how the other grown-ups had spoken towards Jensen. Still, he couldn’t help the growing niggle at the back of his mind, especially when everyone around him were busy talking and laughing and so comfortable with each other. Instinctively, Jensen pressed himself further back against Jared’s chest and –

Gave a squeak at the unexpected finger prodding the bridge of his nose.

‘‘Poppa, look at these pretty spots,’’ the girl, Danni, oohed at him.

‘‘Umph!’’ Jensen grumbled around his pacifier, reeling back away from her hand.

Mike laughed, one hand slapping the armrest of the chair while Tom shook his head. ‘‘Danneel,’’ the curly-haired man snorted. ‘‘You’re worse than your Daddy – c’mere and stop poking at Jensen’s freckles.’’

‘‘Freckles smeckles!’’ Danneel crowed.

She didn’t move towards her parents, though. In fact, Jensen watched with silent horror as she wormed her way closer to stand between Jared’s legs and, essentially, closer to him. Both his daddies must’ve sensed his apprehension, as Jensen found Jared’s thigh offer a playful bounce before he felt the tell-tale touch of Jeff’s work-roughened fingers massage across the top of his head.

‘‘Uncle Jeff, le-lemme see Jensen, too!’’ Steve said, waddling forth – only to get picked up by Jeff.

‘‘Steady on, monkey,’’ Jeff introduced, his lap full of Modified, Snoopy-wearing male.

Jensen couldn’t control the way his eyes narrowed at the familiar ease in which Steve got comfy on _his_ papa’s lap, when the other boy, Chris, shouldered his way beside Danneel. He heard the whines as the latter two bickered over who was in whose space, the sound of the surrounding grown-up’s fond exasperation and attempts of diverting a building argument falling to the wayside as Steve began to babble.

‘‘Daddy said be gentle, ‘coz Jensen’s a baby-baby.’’ Clumsy hands then patted at Jensen’s forearm. ‘‘H-Hiya, baby Jensen,’’ Steve continued, honest eyes wide. ‘‘Me an’ my brudda Chris’ll look after you!’’

‘‘Poppa, Daddy – ’’ Danneel began to say before being drowned out by Chris.

‘‘Momma, I wanna give Jenny his peasant.’’

‘‘Present,’’ Vicki corrected, softly.

‘‘Yeah, that!’’

Face undoubtedly red, Jensen felt overwhelmed. The strange swirl of new feelings at witnessing Daddy and Papa’s interaction with others, along with meeting said others, made him feel uneasy. However, upon hearing he had gifts, the twisty, bubbling mix of _something_ in Jensen’s gut ebbed at the sight of his parents’ attention towards other Little Ones, his so-called ‘cousins’. At least, Jensen thought so...

The clatter of a gate opening followed by noise signaled the arrival of three others, one of which being a female, Modified adult babe known as Sandy. She all but sprinted across the patio in a streak of dark, long hair and pink sundress to get to ‘Uncle Jay’. Only then did she proceed to barge her way onto Jared’s lap, narrowly knocking Jensen off, and re-sparking the horrible feeling building in his stomach.

Feeling strangely prickly, Jensen watched the way Jared smiled and held Sandy in his free arm and, suddenly, identified what that something-feeling was:

Jealousy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2/2 of 24hr update. Enjoy, I hope!

Jared still had Sandy on his lap when his friends began doling out gifts.

With one arm curled around Jensen and the other stopping Sandy, who was more kneeling than sitting on his thigh, from toppling off, he was disappointed in not being able to help his son with opening his first gift. That said, Jared doubted that even if it had a spare hand he’d be able to aid Jensen with tearing open wrapping paper. Chris, forever well-meaning but protective to the point of being possessive, practically opened the present for Jensen.

Despite being half-choked by Sandy’s arm around his neck, Jared managed to watch the adorable interaction with a growing grin. Jensen looked lost, confused that whatever was hidden beneath the cream and blue designed paper was for him, as Chris hastily took over with shredding the paper. Steve had smacked his brother’s hand, once or twice, until Chris let Jensen _‘‘hafta go openin’ it,’’_ and, sure, there had been a mere scrap of wrapping paper left…but Jensen happily plucked it off with a shy smile behind his pacifier.

‘‘Oh, wow,’’ Jared let out an enthusiastic gasp. ‘‘What is that, Jensey?’’

Jensen held onto the unwrapped plushie and, while trying to keep a hold of Honey, peered up at him. Jared beamed down at his and Jeff’s baby boy, happy to note the glimmer of joy evident in his son’s eyes. He tried to ignore Sandy squirming for attention, at least for a moment, as he watched the way Jensen raised the gifted toy towards Jeff and how his husband gently brushed his fingers against the thick, blue corduroy material that made up the chunky, droopy-faced toy dog.

‘‘Is it a doggie?’’ Jeff coaxed.

The little man stayed silent, but did nod.

Jiggling the thigh which Jensen occupied, Jared half-chuckled. ‘‘Woof, woof!’’

His poor, dorky attempt at dog noises brought forth laughter from both adults and little ones. Jared didn’t really have eyes or ears for anything but Jensen’s happy features and muffled giggle. Steve began to mimic the noise from where he was standing, wedged between his and Jeff’s chair in a bid to be close to the ‘baby-baby’. To Jared, while it was clear all the Little Ones had missed him and Jeff’s frequent appearance as of late, the mention of a new family member in the form of Jensen had them all eager.

The last thing Jared wanted was for Jensen to be overwhelmed, but so far it was going good. Chris and Steve were keen with getting close to Jensen, their small hands clumsily offering affection pats while Danneel was more focused with questions. Jared’s pretty sure he’s lost count over the selection of jabbered questions Danni had asked Jeff while Jared had been preoccupied with being greeted by Sandy. Hell, it was somewhere between hearing the little redhead ask about Honey, and listening to Jeff trying to keep the curious girl from rummaging through Jensen’s diaper bag, that Jared noted Sandy’s lack of acknowledgment towards their new addition.

Even now, watching Jensen peep into the gift bag of cute, onesie pajamas Jeff was holding from Alona and Milo, Sandy continued to chatter to others, but not Jensen. She probably didn’t mean to ignore his baby; Sandy had always been close to him and Jeff, and she probably missed them the most. Jared had, probably, babysat her the most out of them all, so it was natural they would be close.

Well, that, and the fact Jared had always been a softie when it came to Sandy.

Alona and Milo had found her, years prior, on the internet adult baby Forums during the exact time he and Jeff’s latest attempt at consensual adoption had failed. When Sandy showed up, Jared might’ve transferred the feelings he had towards his to-be-baby towards her. He didn’t spoil her rotten, he wasn’t like Milo, but he did give her some extra slack. And, that wasn’t to say he didn’t love his other nieces and nephews equally. Be they an adopted Little One like Chris, or a natural, biological relation like his brother’s son, Lucas, Jared could honestly say he loved them all the same.

Still, it would be nice for Sandy to get along with Jensen…

‘‘Hey, sugarplum,’’ Jared crooned to Sandy. ‘‘Did you help Mommy and Daddy pick out those jammies for Jensey?’’

The girl wrinkled her nose. ‘‘No.’’

‘‘Oh,’’ Jared faltered.

‘‘Uncle Jay, let’s go play,’’ Sandy brightened, excitedly batting his shoulder. ‘‘Play now, yeah?’’’

Jensen chose that moment to let out a grunting wiggle, leaving Jared to look down at his little guy. At a first glance, nothing seemed wrong. Honey and the blue dog were placed upon the table before him, freeing up Jensen’s hands to, ever-so-gently, explore the latest gift upon Jeff’s lap. It was a red tin box, complete with a white cross on front and, from what Jared could see around his son’s little hands rummaging about the contents, it was basic medical supplies of everything from childishly colorful band-aids to three different kinds of thermometers.

And, really, it didn’t take much guessing as to who got them that.

‘‘What?’’ Sam said upon noticing his smile. ‘‘I can’t have you two callin’ me up over every sniffle your boy gets.’’

‘‘Thanks, though,’’ Jared grinned. ‘‘To all of you…you guys didn’t need to get anythin’ for us.’’

‘‘Hey! You haven’t even opened ours yet!’’ Tom protested.

Giving a shrug at his old college buddy, Jared chuckled. He stretched down to plant a kiss on Jensen’s cheek before switching back to Sandy who was, rather persistently, tugging the collar of his shirt. He used the arm wrapped around her to playfully pat her thigh and smile apologetically as the dark-haired girl glowered at his diverted attention.

‘‘Sorry, baby girl. Not now.’’

Never one to be told ‘no’, Sandy had a face like thunder.

‘‘Less of that,’’ he hastened to sooth. ‘‘Uncle Jeff and I have missed you, y’know. We’ve been busy gettin’ Jensen settled, but we showed him the picture we took last summer of us all at Carmel Bay and – ’’

‘‘Beach house!’’ Danneel cut-in.

‘‘Yeah,’’ Misha said, smiling indulgently. ‘‘The beach house, Danni.’’

‘‘Go now, Daddy?’’ Chris piped up, hopeful.

Internally, Jared cringed, half-listening to Misha calm down the trio of Chris, Steve and Danneel. He forgot how excitable they all got over their annual summer vacation down by the ocean front. The entire group all packed up usually around late-July or early-August to spend a fortnight at the ‘beach house’ that, in reality, were three, quaint cottages Vicki’s family owned and rented throughout the year.

‘‘…got a while until we go, kiddos.’’ Jared caught the ending snippet of Misha’s comment.

‘‘But it’ll fly by real fast!’’ Mike joined in with a cheer, half-speaking into the neck of his beer bottle.

Chris looked a little sulky, but Danneel bounced on the spot with an equally ecstatic Steve.

‘‘Me an’ Poppa did good,’’ Danni said, her small arms holding a wrapped parcel. ‘‘J’sen go to beach with us and can use…use these!’’

The red-haired female all but thrust the bag into Jeff’s lap. His husband fumbled, large hands trying not to drop the medical box while snagging a hold of the wrapped package. Jensen didn’t tear open the parcel, still unsure and shy, and it took an awful lot of coaxing from Jeff before their baby boy timidly picked at a taped corner.Suddenly, Jared found himself envisioning what Jensen’s first birthday or Christmas would be like if this nervous, snail’s pace way of opening gifts happened in the future. In the end, Jared’s musings were cut short via the crinkle of paper and Jeff’s deep rumble of amusement.

‘‘Look at these, sunshine. You can tell Uncle Mike and Tom have the same taste as Daddy, hm?’’

Mike ran a hand across his bristly-short hair, almost sheepish. ‘‘Sorry it’s not much, Jay.’’

‘‘Don’t be stupid, these are great,’’ Jared scolded, eying the bundle of green and blue material.

The gifted item was a set of downy, hooded towels – similar in design to the yellow duck towel he had bought for Jensen. These two, however, lacked an orangey beak but did have black, sewn eyes. The green towel was akin to a frog while the blue one was more like an elephant, complete with a short, stubby trunk to form a brim. To say Jared was happy at having more of the cute accessories and seeing Jensen’s smile at gifts was an understatement.

It was official, he and Jeff truly did have the best friends-turned-family, _ever_.

* * *

Barbecues for this group, Jensen discovered, turned out to be a lengthy event. He expected an afternoon of grilled meats and side dishes before heading off home. But no, midway through a light yet delicious lunch of salad, burgers and grilled chicken, he learned this gathering would bleed over into an early dinner in a few hours or so. Any hope Jensen had at holding himself together until leaving to go home with his daddies withered away, along with his appetite.

‘Cause dinner wouldn’t be served for a few more hours yet, and it was barely 2PM.

Jensen didn’t think he could last another hour, let alone a few more plus eating time. It was so hard, though. Every time he looked at Jeff tickle Chris’ belly, or Jared running a hand through the long, crimson tangle of Danni’s hair, he felt awful. Jensen couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt so…so _jealous_. Sure, growing up as a poor kid and, later on, a foster-kid, he’d frequently feel the twist of longing in his chest and tang of bitterness on his tongue – but never like this, never so strongly.

It was like an ugly, feral cat was living inside him, clawing and writhing away in his gut and squirming up, and up, until his chest felt too tight to breathe. He tried to not show his stupid, slow-brewing feelings, though. Jensen had spent the better half of lunch accepting small bites Jeff or Jared offered him off their plates and alternating between their laps. In the end, when he couldn’t take anymore of watching Sandy coax Jared, _his_ Daddy, away to play on the grass, he stopped wriggling or reaching for Jared and stayed clinging to Jeff…

Until Jeff plopped him on Alona’s lap to go help Tom with adding more charcoal to the BBQ.

He lasted all of three seconds of watching Jeff walk off and hearing Jared and Mike goofing about with the other ‘babies’ before slipping off Alona’s lap. The blonde yelped, startled, as Jensen darted under the table and away from her. He rounded an empty chair and was close, so close, to getting by Papa when _someone_ snagged the back of his overalls by the straps.

No matter how much weight he put into straining forward, Jensen didn’t move a budge. If anything, whoever had halted his sprint towards the barbecue gave a light tug that sent his useless, little legs wobbling backwards. For the briefest of moments, he thought he was going to fall from the action – at least, until he bumped into his captive’s arms.

Arms, Jensen noted, that belonged to Misha.

The blue-eyed man was all smiles as he turned Jensen around and held him aloft. Jensen pulled a face behind his pacifier, his high position making it easier to catch sight of Jared sprawled stomach-down on the grass, playing with Steve and some toys while Sandy twisted ribbons into Jared’s hair. He must’ve looked grumpy enough to make Misha’s grin soften into something else and, before Jensen could garner Jeff’s attention with a whine, Misha gave a little spin.

‘‘No, no’’ Misha sing-songed. ‘‘Little ones stay away from the grill, that’s how you get owchies.’’

Jensen didn’t stifle the plaintive warble escaping his throat.

‘‘I’m not that bad, am I, Jenny-bean?’’ Misha merely quirked an eyebrow, cradling him close. ‘‘How about we go on the grass and play with your daddy and the others?’’

Another whimper left him – this time it was less to do with muddled feelings of jealously and more to do everyone’s perky, friendly kindness. Jensen wouldn’t feel bad at kicking up fuss until Jeff came to his recuse if everyone wasn’t so nice. As it was, even scowling grouchily at Misha’s suggestion made him feel guilty at ruining the cheery, family-like atmosphere…

‘‘Are you tormenting my boy?’’ Jeff called over, amused.

He didn’t bother listening to Misha’s half-chuckled response, his neck already craning towards Jeff. The bearded man caught his eyes and offered a playful wink, coaxing a small smile out of him. He felt a little better, not as anxious, with being out of Jeff’s reach. In fact, Jensen didn’t even bat an eye when Misha deposited him onto Vicki’s lap and, with a departing hair ruffle, slipped off to join Jeff and Tom at the barbecue.

Instead, all Jensen could do was slump and let Vicki arrange him into a reclining position. He wrinkled his nose upon finding his cheek smooshed against her breast, the sensation of feminine softness clashing with his usual source of comfort. Jeff and Jared were all firm muscle and large hands, not _this_. It was…weird.

Weird, but okay, he supposed.

Vicki had hair that fell in an inky wave past her shoulders and, timidly, Jensen wove his fingers into the curled ends. The hair was soft, silky, and far, far longer than Jared’s brown locks that Jensen could lift Vicki’s hair towards his face and brush it repetitively against the tip of his nose. It was soothing, especially when Vicki began to sway a little in her seat, rocking him.

With the vibrations of whatever Vicki was saying to Alona and Sam tickling his cheek, Jensen barely contained a yawn. He didn’t know that he was tired, but it certainly made sense over his previously restless nap back at home. Closing his eyes and drifting off into sleep kind of just happened, something Jensen wasn’t aware of doing until he woke-up with his fingers still caught in Vicki’s hair and drool working its way down his chin.

‘‘ – taken Jensen for a check-up?’’ Sam’s voice was the first he heard.

‘‘Probably soon,’’ Jared said. ‘‘We’ll get him booked in with Mark.’’

‘‘Doc Sheppard?’’ Milo asked.

Peeking through his eyelashes, Jensen noticed the grown-ups were back at the table along with Jared’s close proximity. Daddy was, thankfully, Sandy-less and mid-sip through a glass of ice tea as he sat beside Vicki. Naturally, he wanted to reach out, greedily burrow himself into Jared’s chest and soak up what he could –

‘‘Yeah, he’s down as our physician so I’ll probably give him a call when Jared’s away to sign Jensen up for an appointment.’’

Until he heard Jeff’s addition.

The word ‘away’ certainly had Jensen popping open one eye. Yet, just as a new form of panic began to bloom in his chest over the off-hand comment of Jared – Daddy! – going away, a whoop distracted him. The noise was cheery, boisterous, and coming from the direction of Mike who was playfully elbowing Sam. The woman seemed to be trying to look unamused, but the slight curve of her lips let her down.

‘‘Hear that, Sam,’’ Mike grinned, ‘‘they’re goin’ to be seeing your precious Mark.’’

Sam huffed, defensive. ‘‘He’s not my – ’’

‘‘Since when did you meet, Mark?’’ Jeff interjected, curious.

Alona tittered. ‘‘They’ve been on a few dates.’’

‘‘No,’’ Sam assured, tone firm. ‘‘We got talking after that conference in Burbank and we’ve just…kept in touch.’’

‘‘Touch, huh?’’ Jeff rumbled, face alight.

Jensen blinked, more than a little lost in the unravelling banter and teasing that spread about the group. He slipped his fingers from Vicki’s hair and reached towards Honey’s place upon his thighs. Only then, clutching the rabbit’s ear, did he twist about in Vicki’s lap, making his conscious state known. A series of coos from the surrounding, older males and females reached his ears, but he was mainly focused on Jared.

‘‘Hey, sleepy baby,’’ Jared crooned at him, arms wide.

The floppy-haired man’s comment made Jensen’s face heat and heart flutter. It didn’t matter that Jared had only been a few feet away when playing with the others before, Jensen had _missed_ him. Uncaring of his company and possibly coming across as needy, he squirmed until Vicki set him down. The second his feet touched the patio, Jensen was eager in stepping forth and into the circle of his daddy’s arms – when a small blur of pink bustled past with a shriek.

Suddenly knocked down onto his diaper-padded bottom, Jensen was horrified to find Sandy clambering up on Jared’s lap. He didn’t register the light, scolding tone of Sam and Alona calling out to Sandy any more than he noticed Jared’s startled, if disappointed, expression. All Jensen took note of was how it looked and felt at being, literally, knocked aside and…and…

Replaced?

A strange, static buzz filled Jensen’s ears as the awful, tummy-twisting feeling from before returned at full force. He wasn’t like them; Chris, Steve, Danneel and… _Sandy_ , he wasn’t as boisterous or forward. Instead, Jensen was painfully shy at the best of times, let alone being an awkward, fumbling ‘baby’ and meeting new people. Jensen felt a warm blur fill his eyes and breath catch at the realization Daddy obviously liked babies like Sandy better than him.

So, it was no surprise, really, that when Daddy – still with a lapful of Sandy – reached towards him, Jensen flinched.

He didn’t want to be second-best. He didn’t want to hear Jared say how difficult he was. He could only let his pacifier fall from his lips and let out a soft squall of anguish.

* * *

‘‘Sandy!’’

‘‘Sandra!’’ Alona nearly squawked, embarrassed. ‘‘You don’t push others, especially Jensen.’’

Milo winced, his eyes seeking out his daughter from across the table. ‘‘It was an accident, wasn’t it, sweetie?’’

Jeff worked his jaw, partly at the loud responses from Sam, Alona and Milo, and partly at the incident itself. He highly doubted it was an accident, it was clear Sandy – once the ‘youngest’ aka ‘newest addition’ before Jensen – was taking the slight decrease in attention not well. Still, he resisted the urge to snap, or growl and settled with sitting forward in his chair to check Jensen from his stunned spot on the floor. It was more a bump, no scraps or cuts visible, but his little boy did look distressed at the unexpected if, supposedly, accidental knock.

He was just about to collect his and Jared’s baby boy and pepper that pouty expression with kisses, when Jared beat him to it. His husband, in the middle of firmly but softly telling the girl in his lap to behave, stretched out one hand towards Jensen. However, just as Jared’s fingers brushed their son’s cheek, the silent stupor Jensen had been in broke as their little one jolted away from the touch and began to bawl.

The reaction from Jared was one of quickness, and Jeff would’ve marveled at speed his husband slipped Sandy into Vicki’s arms if he wasn’t shocked. Jensen’s cry sounded so _pained_. Yet, despite Jeff’s twitching fingers of nerves, Jared had control of the situation and was in the middle of tucking his large hands under Jensen’s armpits for a much needed kiss and snuggle –

Until Jensen forcefully twisted _away_ from Jared, his cry slipping into a slight screech.

Jeff didn’t think twice about stepping in and collecting the weepy, red-faced little guy up. He half expected the same reaction Jared had gained, to be pushed away, but he didn’t. If anything, Jensen clung to him like he was the last person on earth; all arms, legs and tiny, grasping fingers. Jeff didn’t miss the way his husband looked a mix between horrified and worried and, most of all, hurt over this recent development.

It was awkward, to say the least. Not Jensen’s crying, the entire group of parents had long grown accustomed to tears and tantrums from their Little Ones. But walking away from Jared to see to Jensen in private? _That_ was beyond awkward. Jeff wanted nothing more than to tug the younger, long-haired man along with him to see what had their boy reacting this way. Yet, given Jensen’s outright rejection to Jared, he opted to go on his own and slip through the back door of Sam’s house and into the kitchen.

He just about exited the kitchen and wandered into the dining room when Jensen’s wailing softened into a hiccupping bleat. Jeff stilled in his steps by the bay window and began swaying on the spot, one hand cupping the back of Jensen’s head. How long they stood there, he didn’t know, but it probably wasn’t too long given the Modified male’s continued hiccups. Either way, it was enough time for Jensen to collect himself together to loosen the death grip he had on Jeff.

‘‘Oh, sunshine,’’ Jeff breathed, sympathetic. ‘‘What’s all this about?’’

‘‘Suh – suh –’’ Jensen’s muffled, sniffly attempts of speech were cut short by a hiccup.

Jeff waited, letting his hand sip down from his boy’s head to sweep down the small, trembling back.

‘‘S– sorry!’’

Frowning at the apology, he carefully peeled Jensen away from his chest enough to actually look at the kid. ‘‘What you sorry for?’’ he asked, not bothering to hide the surprise in his tone. ‘‘You’ve been such a good, brave boy today, sweetheart.’’

Because, Jeff noted, Jensen has.

His and Jared’s shy boy had prevailed meeting his cousins and aunts and uncles. Jeff was actually astonished Jensen hadn’t broken into tears hours ago and, if this was what Jensen was saying sorry for, he was half-tempted to scold the kid for being so silly. After all, in comparison to past meet-and-greets of introducing new little ones to their hodgepodge of unrelated family members, today had gone smoothly.

In fact, Jeff had been present when Misha and Vicki introduced Chris and Steve to Sam’s Gabe…he could remember the flailing tantrum Chris had thrown at thinking his brother, Steve, liked Sam’s Little One more than him. Then, of course, Jeff could remember when Danneel joined the group and how the redhead had greeted her cousins via pulling Chris’ hair or stealing Gabe and Steve’s snacks at every given opportunity. Even Sandy, who, like Jensen, never met Gabe given his passing, managed to slot herself neatly between grown-ups and fellow adult babies despite the first hour of her throwing gifts and crying at them all…

‘‘…’orry ‘or ‘ing an’ nuh – nuh bein’ ‘ike ‘em.’’

Jeff blinked, coming back into reality and trying to understand what Jensen had just said. He tipped Jensen’s chin up, forcing the boy to actually look at him, and smiled. No wonder Jensen was unintelligible: his baby boy had a finger hooked inside his mouth. Carefully removing the slobbery bad habit, Jeff avoided Jensen’s attempt to stuff his pacifier – previously forgotten and dangling by the clip-on strap – in his mouth by keeping a hold of the tiny, clammy hand within his own.

Sitting down on the cushioned window seat, Jeff said, ‘‘want to try that again, buddy?’’

‘‘I…’’ Jensen stalled, letting out a loud, wet sniffle. ‘‘M’sorry…f-for cryin’ an’ not b-bein’ like th-them.’’

‘‘Who?’’

Jensen’s face crumpled at the continued prodding, and Jeff backtracked. ‘‘Hey, hey,’’ he pacified. ‘‘It’s okay, little man. Don’t cry…Papa’s just worried. Do you want to tell me wants wrong?’’

‘‘I just wan’…I wan’ Da – ’’

A hiccupped sob broke forth, interjecting one of the two words Jeff would’ve loved to hear. Alas, he settled Jensen in the crook of his arm and began to thumb away tears. Shushing softly, Jeff was mid-way through smoothing away the furrow in Jensen’s brow with a kiss when the younger male finally began dropping some clues towards all these tears.

‘‘M’not good like…like San-ndy.’’

‘‘Sandy?’’ Jeff parroted back, confused. He was at a loss, though, and focused on the first part. ‘‘I don’t know what she’s got to do with it, fella. Although, I can tell you this – you’re good, Jensey. So, so good.’’

‘‘Nu – nuh like that. M’not good at being Lil', like 'em.’’

Humming, Jeff found the pieces slotting together and breathed a sigh of relief. He guessed, when around adult babies who had been in their ‘little’ mindset longer than Jensen had been, his and Jared’s boy felt out of his element. Silly boy, he thought. Just because Jensen was silent now, around new people, and generally shy in his nature didn’t mean he was _bad_ ; all Little One’s differed, it was a sheer fact of personality.

Unable to help himself, Jeff let go of Jensen’s hand to playfully knuckle the underside of his chin. ‘‘Ah, kiddo, I’m pretty sure I told you to just be yourself,’’ he told Jensen. ‘‘That also goes for comparing yourself, too. You don’t act when being Little, just let go, do what you want and listen to your daddies…If you want to go play with Steve, go play, or if you want to stay by Daddy, you can – ’’

‘‘But h-he likes Sandy, better!’’ Jensen yelped.

And Jeff was barely aware of his jaw unhinging in shock. That was what Jensen thought? That why Jensen burst into tears, cried his heart out and flinched away from Jared like a traitor? ‘Cause ‘Daddy likes Sandy better’? Oh, it was just _precious.._.not to mention so wrong.

Jeff _would’ve_ huffed out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of such a statement had it not been a familiar voice swiftly cutting in to say:

‘‘That’s not true, sweetpea.’’

The pair of them, Jensen and himself, swung their heads in the direction of Jared’s voice. The towering, younger male is standing, not in the archway leading into the kitchen, but by the dining room’s entryway from the hall. Jared looked very much like a kicked puppy: slumped shoulders and an astonished, albeit guilty, expression plastered upon his face. Jeff feels his shoulders sag and lips twitch at the sight, feeling sympathetic yet partly amused at the fact his husband is holding Honey out like a peace offering.

‘‘You’re our Lil' boy, Jensey,’’ Jared carries on, slinking closer until he’s crouching by Jeff’s feet. ‘‘You’re Daddy’s baby boy and Papa’s little man and we love you so much and – ’’ his voice dips into a stage whisper, ‘‘ – that pretty much means you’re our favorite, forever and always.’’

‘‘That’s right,’’ Jeff nods. ‘‘Forever and always, kiddo.’’

Jensen gives a slight sniff, undoubtedly ashamed at his reaction and insecurities if his facial expression is as telling as it is now. Jeff, however, finds it adorable. Well, that and beyond relieving, especially when Jensen – still pressed against his chest – stretches his arms towards Jared, inviting the other man closer. Jeff chuckles at the way Jared, with all the enthusiasm of a kid at Christmas, dives forward to curl one hand over Jeff's thigh while the other places the plushie rabbit Jensen’s arms.

Jeff can’t see his son’s face around his husband’s floofy head of hair, but he can most certainly hear Jensen’s giggles each time Jared plants one of many kisses to their boy’s face.

* * *

‘‘Jenny’s thirsty, huh, Uncle Jay?’’

The observation from Chris is unusually soft, somewhat gentle, that Jared finds himself chuckling in agreement. After Jensen’s brief battle of tears, his and Jeff’s baby came a little out of his shell. Sure, it had taken a lot of persuasion and Jared being an unmoving presence, but Jensen had timidly taken Danneel’s hand. As it was, both he and Jensen had spent a while with the redhead in the sandbox, until now.

Now, Jared noted, Danneel had wandered off to her parents while he sat – half-in, half-out – the sandbox with Jensen in his lap. Chris was kneeling in the sand, blue eyes raptly watching Jensen who, currently, was in the middle of sucking down a baby bottle of diluted Ribena. It wasn’t as if there was anything interesting to watch, at least, for Chris, but the little guy seemed happy to talk softly between watching Jensen and taking a swig of juice from his own sippy cup. However, for Jared, he was both surprised yet happy when Jensen didn’t snatch the baby bottle, eager to hold the bottle himself like he usually did outside of milk feedings and, instead, simply opened his mouth; allowing Jared to take charge.

It wasn’t just a minor sign of needing comfort, it was cute. Plus, Jared couldn’t help but silently cheer that Jensen decided to try this when drinking blackcurrant juice. Diluted or not, the damn thing could stain and Jensen was hardly neat when it came to holding the short, chubby plastic bottles reserved for the independent suckling of juice or water. The latter was somewhat of an inside joke between he and Jeff, for there was endless entertainment – despite the pile-up of laundry – at the way Jensen had yet master the flow of liquid and, often or not, spilled and dribbled.

As it was, Jensen soon quenched his thirst and pulled off the bottle’s nipple with an audible pop. The noise seemed to earn approval from Chris who, seeing that Jensen was finished, excitedly patted the sand. Jared didn’t even wait for Jensen’s response and, gently, plopped both his boy and toy bunny before the Collins’ eldest. He didn’t need to see Jensen’s face for the expected pout and, before his Little One turned around, Jared kept a hand upon Jensen’s back.

‘‘Daddy’s not leavin', kiddo,’’ Jared assured.

Jensen seemed to relax under his hand, and Jared beamed. ‘‘Look, Jensey,’’ he urged towards the chunky, plastic toys,‘‘Chris has trucks.’’’

‘‘That’s a dump truck,’’ Chris piped, pointing towards the red, plastic toy. ‘‘Bu’ this one,’’ the kid tugged a yellow vehicle closer, ‘‘is’a bull…bull’oser.’’

‘‘Ohhh, I see.’’

Chris seemed to blank Jared’s impressed reply in favor of shoving a toy vehicle towards Jensen. ‘‘Jenny, you be this one, s’ a digger!’’

And, Jared, hearing Jensen’s soft, happy hum, left the boys to it.

He had barely been watching when he noticed he had extra company in the form of Alona. The blonde was standing directly behind him, obscuring the view of the patio, as she shook her head at him. Jared managed to quirk an eyebrow, idly wonder what had his gentle-hearted friend attempting to look stern when she began to click her tongue at him.

‘‘If you’re bottle feeding your Little One you really should burp him.’’

Jared didn’t even try to bite back the exasperated exhale that left him.

Really, as much as Jared loved his friends he had enough hearing their ‘advice’. Between playing with the Little Ones, eating lunch and catching up with fellow grown-ups, he had been subjected to enough verbal guidance that he could probably write a book about it. He knew everything his pals had said, everything from Misha’s suggestion of switching Jensen to goats milk, to Sam’s nagging about taking Jensen for a check-up, had good intentions.

But, still…it was like gaining a baby of his and Jeff’s own had made their friends-turned-family forget about how often he and his husband had babysat before. Hell, Jared’s lost count about the amount of times Sandy had been placed in his and Jeff’s care for an entire weekend. The whole parenting aspect might be new territory, but feeding and changing diapers was something he could do with his eyes closed.

As for burping Jensen…well, unless it was his pre-bedtime bottle, Jared usually rubbed his baby boy’s back under the guise of a cuddle, or –

‘‘I’m _teasing_ , Jay,’’ Alona said, interjecting his thoughts and jokingly prodding him with the toe of her sandal.

Jared flicked her ankle. ‘‘Go away.’’

She shook her head at him. ‘‘No can do, Sam only trusts you to cook the steak. You’re her Grill Guru!’’

That, Jared thinks, is what he gets for being Texan and coming from the land of barbecue.

‘‘C’mon, Milo’s been whining for dinner and he – ’’ Alona tilts her head towards Jensen ‘‘ – is fine. Don’t be such a worry-bird.’’

Grumbling under his breath, Jared reluctantly slipped away from the sandbox. He kept stopping every few steps, hazel eyes darting back towards Jensen and Chris. Both Little Ones, especially _his_ Little One, didn’t seem to notice his disappearance. Jared carried on walking away until his feet hit the flagstones of the patio and various conversations in mid-flow enter his ears; be it Milo’s bragging about his new promotion or Danneel’s giddy chattering to Sandy. It was during his moment of stepping up to the grill that one particular, overheard snippets garnered his attention.

‘‘ – call us at any time when Jared’s away if you need a hand.’’

‘‘Thanks, Vicki. It means a lot,’’ Jeff grinned.

Jared felt his gut roll – happy at Vicki’s offer, but queasy at the reminder over his too soon departure. He had really, really forgotten about the annual writing workshop he ran during the summer. It was only last night when Jared noticed the flash of a notification on his phone that reminded him of his commitment in LA, and he felt terrible. He couldn’t back out, not when he was leaving first thing on Monday morning.

Although, it was tempting…

But he had a contract, pupils, a conference space and pre-paid hotel and…yeah, it was too last minute. So last minute, in fact, that Jared had yet to break the news to Jensen that Daddy was going away for a few nights. As it was, both he and Jeff had decided to hold off and tell Jensen after the barbecue and hope that, between packing his bag, Jared could spend the majority of Sunday pampering their baby enough so his presence wouldn’t be missed too much.

‘‘That goes for us, too!’’ Milo bursts forth.

‘‘I should be okay, though, guys,’’ his husband explains. ‘‘I'm not that hopeless and Jared’ll only be gone from Monday to Thursd– _Ow!_ ’’

‘‘Shhh!’’ Jared hisses at Jeff.

Jared doesn’t know if Jeff’s flinch-worthy jump is at the sound of his voice, or the fact he just whacked the older man’s ass with a near-by spatula, but it doesn’t matter. If anything, Jared stamps down on his own amusement at the funny expression on Jeff’s face and focuses on the task at hand. It’s a little tricky, though, especially when Mike and Misha say something humorously lewd over the use of kitchen utensils, yet Jared prevails.

‘‘Don’t talk about it,’’ he grumbles. ‘‘Last thing I want is Jensen to overhear when we haven’t told him.’’

‘‘Sorry, babe,’’ Jeff sighs.

Milo proceeds to make a whipping noise, and Jared ignores his friend in favor of sharing a chaste kiss with his husband. Vicki says something to Milo, undoubtedly telling him off, yet it’s too quiet for Jared to hear. Instead, he’s far too busy trying to not let Jeff drag him into a kiss more suited in privacy when Sam, stepping out the kitchen with a tray of marinated steaks, calls out towards him.

‘‘Keep those hands to yourself when preparing my food!’’

Both he and Jeff bark out a laugh while Tom, no longer in the shade of the umbrella at the table, steps a little closer. Jared smiles at the sight of the other man and the additional, clinging company in the form of Sandy and Danneel. The two girls are quite happily tugging at Tom’s locks or prodding at his face who, like some sort of overly patient Labrador dog, merely lets the two, female Littles treat his face like Play-Doh.

‘‘ ‘Ooks ummph y’gotta ‘adow,’’ Tom attempted to say.

‘‘…What?’’ Jared, and seemingly the entirety of the group, asked in union.

‘‘Ugh, sorry – ’’ Tom manages to wiggle his head free from tiny hands mushing up his face. ‘‘I said, Jared,’’ he tries again, ‘‘it looks like you’ve got a shadow.’’

Confused, Jared can only look towards the direction Tom is staring at. Its only then, following the blue-eyed gaze that Jared spots Jensen toddling towards him with Honey dangling from fist. The kid's a little too close to the barbecue for comfort and, naturally, he steps back from the flames to pluck his baby boy up.

‘‘Looks like somebody’s got separation anxiety!’’ Mike partially sing-songs and shouts.

Jared lets the joking comment wash over him, happy to note Jeff manages to shoot a scowl for the both of them towards Mike’s sprawled spot at the table. Regardless, Jared lets his husband teasingly scare Mike, earning a few laughs from others, while he busies himself with eying Jensen’s curved smile behind his pacifier. It’s a comfort to know his little guy is finally settling in enough to be breaking out into a smile similar to the ones at home –

‘‘Hah,’’ Milo sidles up beside him, stretching an arm out to lightly tousle Jensen’s hair. ‘‘Jeff’s gonna have a handful with you gone come Monday, isn’t he, Jay?’’

Jensen’s smile dims and brow furrows while Jared inwardly curses Milo’s idiocy.

So much for breaking the news to Jensen gently, Jared thought.


	14. Chapter 14

Spilt tears, grumpy-face or, at the very least, clingy sulking – Jeff expected one of these three scenarios to follow after Jensen’s discovery of Jared’s upcoming departure. While the others, adults and Little Ones alike, slunk back to the patio table, he had held his breath during his husband’s gentle explanation. Jeff had his arms full of Jensen’s small, sun-warmed form as Jared multitasked between manning the barbecue and planting reassuring kisses to their son’s scrunched up brow of contemplation. Yet, Jeff found his worries, for the time being, at least, unfounded.

Jensen, like he had since arriving at Sam’s, remained silent, but no wailing had followed.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jeff could only eye the Modified male’s face and attempt to decipher the quick flash of emotions darting about behind those mossy green eyes. Amongst the glint bubbling anxiety, it was bright shimmer of _fear_ that stood out the most in Jensen’s eyes. The latter was something Jared also spotted, and Jeff watched how the younger male briefly abandoned the grill to cup their baby boy’s face in both of his massive hands.

‘‘You’re gonna be fine, sweetpea,’’ Jared cooed. ‘‘Remember I told you that Papa’ll be with you? You won’t be alone and we can chat on Skype when I’m back at the hotel.’’

Jensen looked uneasy, but not overly distressed, and Jeff opted to dive in. It wasn’t such a long shot to guess what Jensen’s fear was over, especially when Jared’s reminder didn’t have much effect. Clearly, Jeff mused, their Little One was less worried about Jared going and more fretful about Jared not coming back…

‘‘Daddy will come back, you know,’’ Jeff voiced.

And, yeah, the speed Jensen was suckling on his pacifier did drastically slow down at that.

Jared practically gawped. ‘‘Of course I will!’’ he yelped, clearly taken by surprise at how Jensen’s mind seemed to be working. ‘‘I can’t be away from my baby boy for long,’’ Jared continued to comfort, his hazel eyes locked with Jensen’s own. ‘‘I’ll miss you so much, Jensey, but it’ll only be for…three sleeps. You’ll have fun with Papa startin’ Monday and I’ll be back Thursday afternoon.’’

‘‘Then Daddy can spoil you rotten,’’ Jeff added.

‘‘But less of this, worry-bird,’’ Jared said, lightly tapping Jensen’s nose. ‘‘We’ve got the rest of today and Sunday to enjoy.’’

Nodding, Jeff felt the weight of concern dissolve at Jensen’s faint, albeit amused, chuff. The little guy playfully batted Jared’s hand away, obvious anxiety ebbing enough to offer a smile behind his soother. Jeff beamed and, silently, caught Jared’s fleeting look towards him, the translation unmistakable: keep Jensen distracted enough to not overthink too much.

Following his husband’s suggestion wasn’t too hard. Jeff bounced Jensen a little in his arms, merrily jostling the boy enough to let out a giggle. It worked well, letting Jared return to the task of grilling dinner while Jeff bounded a little ways towards the patio table and the others. He ignored Milo’s mouthed apology with a shrug, his attention more focused on Jensen as he set the boy down on his feet by the grass. Only then, crouching down before his son, did Jeff slowly stretch a hand towards Jensen’s face, the knuckles of his index and middle finger lightly squeezing either side of the Modified male’s small, freckled nose.

‘‘I’ve got your nose!’’ he sing-songed, withdrawing his hand, revealing the sight of his thumb aka Jensen’s ‘nose’ between his knuckles.

The response Jeff gained wasn’t what he expected. Jensen merely went adorably cross-eyed before frowning up at him, looking a good mixture of astonished and offended. Undeterred, he wiggled the captured ‘nose’, grinning hugely – until a small body barreled into his back and set of small arms clasped around his neck.

‘‘Give Jenny’s nose back!’’

Even during mild strangulation Jeff could recognize Chris’ battle cry. He choked out a chuckle and slid off his haunches to drop down onto the seat of his pants. Never far from Chris, Steve appeared to join in the impromptu rough housing session by charging past Jensen with a shriek to push him down. Jeff went with the action, carefully shifting to avoid flattening Chris as he flopped down on his back. This playful scuffle wasn’t exactly what he had in mind with keeping Jensen preoccupied, but it certainly seemed to be doing the trick.

Whatever the case, his and Jared’s boy looked amused, albeit edged with uneasiness, at watching the rough and tumble play. It was like Jensen wanted to join in, but remained too shy to do so on his own accord. Jeff might’ve been busy pretend battling Chris off his right shoulder and Steve off the left-side of his torso, yet that didn’t mean he didn’t notice the way his son’s bare knees jiggled with anticipation. If anything, Jeff was highly aware of Jensen’s happy, little humming noise and couldn’t help but find the sight adorable, especially when he spotted how Jensen had one hand latched onto Honey’s ear while the other was curled tightly around the denim brace of his overalls.

Narrowly avoiding Chris’ elbow in his eye, Jeff called out. ‘‘Jensey, c’mere and save Papa.’’

‘‘Don’t save ‘im!’’ Chris piped up as Jensen edged closer. ‘‘Uncle Jeff is’a – a nose-stealer!’’

‘‘Nose-stealer!’’ Steve repeated.

He would’ve winced at the volume, had he not been used to how loud the little ones could be. It was obvious he had gotten used to the gentle tones Jensen often produced in comparison. Although, Jeff noted, he had yet to hear Jensen speak in the company of their friends-turned-family. Either way, with a tactical raspberry to the exposed flesh of Chris’ stomach, Jeff freed up an arm to tug at the hem of Jensen’s shorts, urging him closer.

That, plus Chris and Steve’s joined shriek of, _‘‘Jenny, get ‘im!’’_ seemed to do the trick of coaxing Jensen into the wrestling match. It was with a brief squeal behind his pacifier which Jensen dropped Honey and hurriedly stepped forth. Instead of literally jumping into the mayhem like the other boys, Jensen opted to plop his diapered behind atop Jeff’s stomach. A mixture of laughter emitted from the patio table at his son’s placid action and, with an exaggerated groan, Jeff pretended to find difficulty with sitting up-right.

‘‘No, Jenny, no,’’ Chris began. ‘‘Y’gotta do this – ’’ Jeff watched the dark-haired boy grab Jensen’s wrists, guiding his son’s small hands towards his face ‘‘– gotta steal your papa’s nose.’’

Jensen’s little fingers pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘‘That’s _my_ nose, sunshine,’’ Jeff said, tone thick and nasally.

‘‘N-Nuh, Jensen’s nose,’’ his son chimed-in.

Face breaking out into a grin, Jeff beamed at the giggly, soother-muffled speech. He wasn’t the only one to catch the spoken words and, while Jared grinned from behind the grill, their friends let out a mixture of muted responses. It didn’t take a genius to know their friends had been awaiting for a sign that Jensen did talk. Still, he barely paid attention to Alona’s tittering any more than he noticed the sharp pain of Steve’s knobbly knees against his side, or Chris’ sudden need to tug at the lobe of his ear – all Jeff had eyes and ears for was Jensen.

He tried again to get more words out of Jensen, his freed up hand reaching up to tickle the underside of his boy’s chin. Yet, no more words came and, between rolling about and carefully wiggling on the grass, Jeff merely gained laughter from all three Modified males who had made home upon his chest, stomach and thighs. More than once he expertly saved Jensen from slipping off and chinning the grass with a thrown out arm and, over the chorus of squeals, he could hear his husband’s worried voice call out:

‘‘Jeff, don’t be too rough!’’

Rolling his eyes at his husband, he snorted. ‘‘We’re fine, mother hen.’’

Jeff could _feel_ the glare Jared sent his way and, lifting his head off the ground, offered his other-half a sheepish grin. He assumed he was in the safe-zone of teasing when Danneel decided to mimic, loudly, _‘‘yeah, m’ther hen!’’_. Wincing at the boisterous, adult laughter that followed, Jeff carefully sat up and arranged the trio giddy Littles in his lap. It was a bit of a squeeze, with Chris and Steve half-hanging off his thighs and Jensen perched on his crossed-legs, but he was ready to do some damage control of appeasing Jared –

Until Jensen turned, arms reaching up to curl around Jeff’s neck and small knee unintentionally planting itself in his crotch.

* * *

‘‘ – it’s a rite of passage to have your family jewels abused. Welcome to fatherhood.’’  
  
‘‘Gee, thanks, Mish,’’ Jeff said dryly. ‘‘Thanks.’’

Jensen ducked his head at the overheard conversation. He had felt a little bad at his accidental Knee Verses Papa’s junk – at least, until everyone kept laughing and teasing Jeff about it. Even Daddy who, like most males, winced with sympathy at his spouse’s pain, hadn’t been able to stop laughing. The memory of Jared wheezing reassurances between chuckles of, _‘‘Papa’s fine, baby, don’t feel bad, he’s a wuss,’’_ would stick with Jensen forever alongside the image of Jeff, fetal-like and tight-lipped, nodding along to Jared’s words in a bid to keep Jensen from worrying.

However, currently rehashed banter aside, Jensen found any guilt towards the aforementioned incident unable to grow. Even the cluster of worry over Jared’s news – the discovery of Daddy _leaving_ – hadn’t been able to increase further than a tight throat and squirmy stomach. Goofing about with Jeff and the follow-up event of dinner being declared ready had done a marvelous job with keeping his mind from working overtime. Plus, even if Jensen wanted to mull over what four days without Jared would be like, everyone and everything seemed hell-bent on keeping him distracted. If it wasn’t the blissed out filling of an overly full tummy, it was Mike diverting his thoughts by playing with him. Although, he wouldn’t call it playing.

Having someone tickle you when you desperately needed to pee was more like torture.

Which, of course, was another interruption from worrying about being Daddy-less for a while. Jensen managed to escape his so-called Uncle’s torture by Danni’s whine to be set free from her portable highchair. The diversion didn’t alter the growing ache in his bladder, though. Had he been home, only with Papa and Daddy, Jensen probably would’ve let his bladder go without much thought or effort.

Now, though…Jensen couldn’t use his diaper in front of a selection of witnesses. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the only one wearing a diapers; Chris might’ve been in pull-ups, boldly announcing to the nearest grown-up to take him to the potty, but Jensen had spotted the flash of bulky white when Sandy’s sundress lifted up, and the padded curve of Steve’s shorts. In fact, earlier on during dinner, he had watched Tom casually leave the table with Danneel in one arm and a diaper bag in the other.

Just the sheer thought of being carried away for a diaper change made his ears and face redden terribly.

They’d – Misha, Vicki, Sam, Milo, Alona, Mike and Tom – all know that Jensen had used his diaper the moment one of his daddies disappeared with him and the damnable diaper bag. He would just…wait. Yeah, Jensen mused, he’d just hold on until he got strapped into his car-seat for the car ride home and –

The steady tinkle of liquid hitting glass made Jensen break out into a sweat.

‘‘Sure you don’t want a glass, Jared?’’

‘‘Alona,’’ Daddy exhaled over the top of Jensen’s head. ‘‘I’ve already told you I’m driving.’’

‘‘Oh, well, Milo and I are getting a cab,’’ Alona tittered, pouring the remains of the bottle in her hand into Sam’s glass. ‘‘You’re really missing out on some good rosé!’’

Jensen narrowed his eyes, drowning out the rest of the conversation. He felt like throwing a fork at the blonde, especially when she held the wine bottle out, sloshing the pink liquid into Vicki’s glass and letting the last few drops _drip, drip, drip_. He couldn’t help but squirm on Jared’s lap at the sound and, very nearly, hissed when his papa reached across to affectionately pat his stomach.

‘‘Nice and full,’’ Jeff murmured. ‘‘I take it you enjoyed dinner, sweetheart?’’

Stiffly nodding, Jensen tried to be subtle with worming away from the light pressure of Jeff’s hand. It was difficult, though, especially when there was nowhere else to go except to scoot further back on Jared’s thigh. Thankfully, Tom unknowingly aided in keeping Jeff’s attention divided by chuckling fondly:

‘‘Seems like you’ve got a good eater there.’’

‘‘I’ll say,’’ Jeff sounded proud. ‘‘If Jared wasn’t feeding him I’m sure Jensen would’ve inhaled the plate in one go.’’

Jared seemed to perk up, coming to Jensen’s defense. ‘‘Hey, Jensey’s just takin’ after his daddy with likin’ his grub,’’ he sent Jensen a wide smile, ‘‘isn’t that right, baby boy?’’

‘‘That’s one way of saying you’re both messy eaters,’’ Mike joined in, joking.

All this focus was the last thing Jensen needed right now, though. So, it was with mild relief when he found his face smothered with a blur of white polka dots on a red background. He did, however, recognize the pattern and texture as the bib Jeff had strapped on him during dinner time, yet that didn’t stop the brief flail of his limbs at the unexpected wiping of his face. The spastic jerk of his arms only lasted a moment and, almost as quickly as the soft, terry-cloth material had covered his vision and rubbed at his chin and mouth, it left, and Jensen found himself blinking up at his attacker, Jared.

The sneaky man merely praised him, like Jensen had a choice in the unexpected clean-up, and peeled off the bib. He watched Jared toss the soiled garment onto the table and, inwardly, Jensen frowned at the smears upon the item. Huh…Jensen blinked, he really hadn’t noticed the steak sauce or anything else decorating his face until being presented with the evidence. The surprise must’ve shown on his face, though, because Jared let out a chuckle and gave Jensen a squeeze-worthy hug with the tightening of his muscled forearm across the Modified male’s torso.

Jensen gasped at the unintended pressure.

Luckily enough, the noise was soft enough to not be heard over the clatter of Misha stacking dishes and noise of surrounding conversation. For once, Jensen was grateful that the other Modified 'Little Ones' were loud and noisy – the foursome were running around the table, having finished eating quicker than Jensen. They all appeared to be playing some chasing game, shouting playfully or screeching for the occasional adult. The noisy ruckus kept his low stream of grumbles inaudible as he hunkered down; slumping so low that he was nearly falling off Jared’s lap with his chin atop the forearm that had previously encircled his waist.

He ignored the amused tsking noise from Jared and swung his feet, hinting to be let down. Sitting around, Jensen thought, wouldn’t help him with forgetting the fact he was fit to burst. His daddy did comply with his wishes, though, and even had the forethought to slip his pacifier back in his mouth. The floppy-haired man kept a light hold upon him as Jensen hastily wormed the rest of his way onto the floor. Almost instantly, Jensen tottered off, mindlessly sucking on his soother and heading around the backs of chairs, avoiding the passing selection of grown-up’s hands reaching out to tousle his hair.

The same couldn’t be said over the prevention of being caught by little hands, though. Jensen didn’t get too far, he had barely reached the array of terracotta plant pots that sprawled from the corner of where Sam’s patio met mowed lawn when someone yanked his soother out by the paci-strap clipped onto the front pocket of his overalls. It startled him, both from the movement and the sudden loss that a whine escaped him so quickly that he didn’t realize the noise was coming from him until his soother stealer spoke up:

‘‘I want!’’

It was Sandy, obviously.

Jensen didn’t have to look at her pout or eye her pink sundress to know it was Sandy. The demanding tone was enough, especially when it was the only the tone he had heard her use since meeting her. He didn’t know what her issue with him was – aside from ignoring him or scowling at him this was their first interaction. An interaction, Jensen noted, that involved her dainty little fingers expertly unclipping the colorful nylon strap.

‘‘Mine!’’ Sandy said, managing to sound both gleeful and intimidating. ‘‘Not Jensen’s,’’ she added, holding both strap and pacifier close, ‘‘Sandy’s.’’

Baffled, he watched her skip away with _his_ belonging. _His binky_.

A swirly pang of anxiousness bloomed deep down in his belly that, momentarily, outgrew his throbbing bladder. Without a second thought, Jensen followed Sandy’s suit. She had darted between Jared and Mike’s chairs and slipped under the table. He would’ve ran after her had he a) not been battling the functions of his bladder, and b) been able to walk, let alone run, in a diaper without an obvious, waddle. In the end, Jensen didn’t have to worry about her getting too far.

By the time he stumbled to a halt by Mike’s chair, Sandy had been caught. It appeared the grown-ups were forever keeping an eye on the Modified males or females of the group, almost like a pride causually overlooking their cubs. It was weird but, in this case, a relief to discover given Sandy’s current spot on Tom’s lap. Jensen hooked a finger into his mouth, the slight weight upon his tongue making the tension bleed out his body as he shifted restlessly on the spot.

‘‘We don’t take things, princess,’’ Milo crooned at Sandy. ‘‘Give the soother to Uncle Tom and c’mon and sit on Daddy’s lap, okay?’’

Whatever Sandy said in return, Jensen didn’t listen to. Instead, his ears caught the overlapping conversation going on between others. Like, Alona, who sounded perplexed at her daughter’s antics.

‘‘ – don’t understand what that’s about, Jared. She’s never wanted or shown an interest in using a pacifier before.’’

‘‘It’s okay, Jensey’s got spares,’’ Jared said with a shrug.

Sam, on the other hand, scoffed into her glass. ‘‘Oh, I have an idea why…’’

‘‘Mhm, I think a certain little miss has been bitten by the green eyed monster,’’ Tom nodded.

Milo sputtered at the theory, seemingly torn between focusing on cuddling his retrieved daughter and disagreeing with his friends. Jensen didn’t really pay much attention, his focus solely upon the sight of Tom passing Jensen’s pacifier over to Mike. The stubble-haired man was about to hand it over to Jared, until he spotted Jensen’s quiet spot. Only then did Mike notice him and, with a wink, promptly jabbed Jensen’s lower stomach in playful greeting –

That urged a trickle of urine to escape him.

That hot, little dribble soon gave way into, what felt like, a flood. Jensen gave a twitch before his body locked up, his eyes clamping shut and chest tightening as his bladder emptied itself. All he could do was swallow down the muddled groan of relief and shame. He was shaky and horrified, and his stomach lurched as his face filled with blood so quickly he could hear it pumping loudly in his ears.

His diaper was wet and, while it wasn’t wholly uncomfortable, he could hardly ignore the swollen warmth quickly surrounding him. He didn’t dare look down at himself, not when he could _feel_ the expanded, soggy material splaying his thighs further apart. Still, he did open his eyes upon feeling Mike's gaze upon him.  
  
Jensen shot the man a glare; an act that was unnoticed. Mike just tilted his head at him, crooked smile in place and completely oblivious to the horror building in Jensen’s system.

‘‘…think I just broke your boy.’’

Face aflame, Jensen caught the scrap of whatever Mike finished saying. He wasn’t surprised he barely heard what his annoying ‘Uncle’ had said, not when he had just pissed himself, in front of others. Jensen felt his breath felt his breath catch, the mortifying reality of the situation sinking in –

‘‘Leave my baby be,’’ Jared sounded amused, the sound of his voice cutting through Jensen’s near meltdown.

‘‘No, really, he did,’’ Mike insisted. ‘‘He went all still and zen-like before shivering!’’

Jeff, who Jensen couldn’t see from his spot, let out a recognizable laugh. ‘‘Ah, that!’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Mike pulled a face, squinting at Jensen. ‘‘You feeling okay, peanut?’’

Jensen merely felt his throat emit a pathetic little squeaking noise.

‘‘He’s fine,’’ Jared answered. ‘‘Well, if it’s what I think it is…’’

The floppy-haired man trailed off and, reluctantly, Jensen peeked through his lashes to eye the towering form of his daddy. Seeking his refuge from prying eyes, he extended his arms up towards Jared who he wholly expected to scoop him up. Yet, that didn’t happen. At least, not right away, and Jared, quite openly, checked his diaper. Jensen probably sounded like an indignant mouse at the sound he made, but he didn’t care. It was one thing to deal with Daddy or Papa’s hands cupping or prodding areas of his diaper at home, yet it was a whole different ballgame when in _public_.

‘‘…Yup!’’ Jared sounded smug. ‘‘Thought so, damp diaper.’’

Mike let out a snort. ‘‘What the…he shivers when finished peeing?’’

‘‘Only sometimes,’’ the longer-haired man explained. ‘‘It’s actually really handy when he does.’’

‘‘Not to mention cute,’’ Vicki smiled at him – like bodily functions and weird quirks (quirks Jensen didn’t know about!) happened to be usual conversation.

Jensen choked around his pacifier, highly aware he was impersonating a fish out of water as Jared chuckled and pulled him close. He would’ve kicked or yelled at awful teller of embarrassing tales if he wasn’t embarrassed into unmoving, numb silence. As it was, all Jensen could do was press the scorching heat of his face against Jared’s chest and wish himself invisible.

* * *

 

‘‘Where’s my Jensey?’’ Jared cheered lightly. ‘‘Is he hidin’ from Daddy?’’

It certainly did seem to be the case since he had plucked Jensen up for a diaper change. His baby boy had all but tried to tunnel into Jared’s chest during the slow walk upstairs to Sam’s main bathroom. Even now, with the door shut and Jensen’s miniscule form upon the unrolled changing mat, he had yet to see the little male’s face. Jensen had folded his arms over his face and, fondly, Jared found the act reminiscent to the first, proper time he had changed Jensen’s diaper and the kid had his face hidden behind his stuffed rabbit…

But that had been over a month ago; a span of time that seemed so long ago that it was almost scary. It had been awhile since his and Jeff’s son actively hid his face during diaper changes, though. Sure, Jensen would always blush and never look at the one cleaning him up, yet that just seemed like an adorable response. Unlike now. Now, Jared notes, he can’t see Jensen’s pinked cheeks and green eyes darting about, avoiding him.

In fact, from his spot standing over Jensen’s supine position atop the lengthy counter near the sink, he can just catch a glimpse of Jensen’s trembling chin. Inwardly frowning, Jared tries to not let his worry show and keeps up the playful attitude. It’s easier said than done, though. No matter how many times he tries to coax Jensen out with cooed comments or tummy tickles throughout the diaper change, it doesn’t happen. He’s still got his hand encircled around Jensen’s ankles after slipping a new diaper under that pale, little butt when a new idea of earning smiles hits him.

Jared lifts those legs back up to blow a raspberry against that back of Jensen’s knees.

It works: a startled, muffled squeal follows suit, and Jared’s laughing deeply.

And small arms slip away slightly from their clamped location. From the section of revealed face he can see, Jensen is a deeper scarlet than usual and the two eyes peeking between forearms are green slits. Jared sniggers, unable to help himself, and goes to repeat the ticklish action again –

Until Jensen nearly knees him in the nose, protesting. ‘‘Nu– Nuh!’’

Glad that those little legs lacked the strength to break out his grip, Jared can only raise an eyebrow at the half-naked little boy. He’s taken aback; partly at his son’s disgruntled tone and, partly, at the angry leg kicking. Jared clicks his tongue, torn between reprimand and offering comfort while Jensen drops his arms away from his face and, if possible,  flushes further under his parent's gaze.

‘‘O-kay,’’ he drawls. ‘‘Jensey’s not in a good mood, huh?’’

A low, indistinct grumbling is his only reply.

‘‘I get it, sweetpea,’’ Jared carries on, mindful of his choice of words. ‘‘It’s been a long, tiring day meeting your cousins. I think somebody just needs bath and beddy-byes, doesn’t he?’’

The peeved, incredulous look he gains from Jensen had him biting the inside of his cheek. Yeah, Jared’s not dumb, it has been a long day for his shy baby boy, but he knows that isn’t why Jensen’s mortified and, seemingly, angry. Maybe it was a little mean to act clueless, yet it seemed the best option in trying to get Jensen used to speaking about his feelings. Either way, it certainly seemed to work and, in the middle of smoothing the diaper tabs in place, Jensen spat out his pacifier to flounder out a reply.

‘‘M’ not sleepy! I’m…Y-You said that I – uh,’’ Jensen shook his head, visibly struggling. ‘‘An’ then, you took me up here and now – now they’ll know that I…I…’’

‘‘Used your diaper like a good boy,’’ Jared cut in, voice soft.

Jensen let out a hitched inhale, and Jared knew it was T-minus three seconds and counting until frustrated tears appeared.

‘‘No, no, baby,’’ Jared hastened to add, attempting to avoid tears. ‘‘C’mon now, sweetpea, using your diaper is good. Daddy’s sorry if what he told Uncle Mike embarrassed you, but I’m proud you did this. There’s no shame, and I know this is a big, big step…’’

‘‘P’oud?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ he breathed. ‘‘Super proud. Daddy and Papa are so proud. It’s one thing to let go ‘round us, but letting go around people you just met? That’s awesome, sweetheart.’’

Tears didn’t seem to be flowing from Jensen, leaving Jared to silently high-five himself. He pressed a kiss against the boy’s blush-warmed cheek before returning to getting Jensen re-dressed. A comfortable silence followed and, after snapping the short-sleeved bodysuit shut at the crotch, set Jensen down on the ground in favor of disposing of the soiled diaper and washing his hands. He was packing away items into the diaper bag when he heard a light slapping noise and, looking down, let out a sharp laugh at the sight of Jensen.

The kid was only in his bodysuit, his overalls still upon the bathroom counter to be slipped back on and, while not unusual as an everyday attire, the addition of wearing socks and tiny, Velcro shoes was somewhat amusing. Personally, Jared found the image Jensen made cute, although Jensen’s pout seemed to think otherwise. Undoubtedly the boy thought his half-dressed state was ridiculous and made his point known to Jared by continuing to pat at the bare skin of his thighs.

‘‘Yes, yes,’’ Jared smiled, ‘‘Daddy hasn’t forgotten. Hold on.’’

He had just slung the diaper bag over his shoulder when tiny hands tugged at his cargo shorts. ‘‘Buh..Binky?’’ Jensen uttered.

‘‘Yeah, and binky,’’ he nodded, his grin stretching hugely.

That, asking for something infantile other than Honey, was new. Naturally, Jared complied by retrieving an unused pacifier from the bag as opposed to using the one Jensen previously spat out. He tucked the latter, nylon strap and all, into his back pocket before snagging a new paci-strap and soother, attaching them together before offering the item to Jensen…who merely opened his mouth, leaving Jared to chuckle and pop the pacifier into his son’s mouth.

‘‘There’s my happy boy,’’ Jared cooed. ‘‘Let’s get you into your overall shorts, yes?’’

‘‘Home?’’

‘‘Alright, then home,’’ Jared agreed. It had been a long day, after all. ‘‘C’mon then,’’ he clapped his hands. ‘‘Let’s get you dressed and then say bye to – ’’

A small, grumpy noise left Jensen.

‘‘Ah-ah, don’t be silly,’’ he tutted, lifting the boy up onto his hip. ‘‘You can’t avoid the others over a diaper change...Steve might cry over not givin’ his new baby cousin a goodbye hug. Besides, sweetpea, it’s really not a big deal – ’’ Jared wiggled a finger under Jensen’s chin, coaxing eye contact, ‘‘ – I promise.’’

The sullen look Jensen sent him didn’t look impressed.

* * *

Jensen isn’t aware how exhausted he is until he’s strapped in his car-seat.

Saying ‘bye’ to his new, extended family turns out to drag on for thirty-minutes, something Jensen didn’t wholly appreciate. He had felt a little better post-diaper change and pep talk, though. It was stupid, but hearing Jared say he was _proud_ of him made Jensen’s chest flutter in a good way. Still, the minor scrap of composure Jensen had regained hadn’t been enough to meet anyone’s eyes during the lengthy succession of goodbyes. Even when Vicki cupped his face for farewell kisses, he had clamped his eyes shut and held in breath, silently awaiting for some comment or tease over his previous disappearance for a new diaper.

Thankfully, none of the grown-ups or fellow, Modified Littles said anything. Just like Jared had reassured, everyone acted like it was a common occurrence, like Jensen had just excused himself to use the bathroom as opposed to publicly pissing his diaper and having to go get cleaned up by someone else. It was odd and surreal and, now, slumped low in his car-seat , embarrassment over the situation continued to linger, tingling under his skin.

However, those faint prickles weren’t as distracting and, barely two minutes into the ride, was Jensen finally able to ponder the prospect of Jared going away…

Which would be soon, like, _real_ _soon,_ Jensen confirmed.

A sudden, sharp pang hit him in his chest. It all seemed rather last minute; being told Jared was leaving Monday morning wasn’t enough time for Jensen to...well, he didn’t know. Prepare, perhaps? Or, more likely, wrap his head around the prospect of what having Daddy absent would mean. He was too drained for further thinking, though. Meeting and mingling at the barbecue left him fatigued, and Jensen blinked his heavy-feeling eyes towards the back of Jared’s head as the man steered the car.

Exhaling a light yawn around his pacifier, he told himself not to worry. For all Jensen knew he dressed like a baby and had, slowly but surely, embraced some childish tendencies, he wasn’t an actual baby. He could handle Jared going away for a few days, it was no big deal – at least, that’s what he told himself. Whatever the case, he buried the strange, little niggle of upset further down inside himself and hugged Honey and his gifted blue dog closer.

With the movement of the car and blended chatter of Papa’s rumbling and Daddy’s chuckles it was no surprise to Jensen that he ended up drifting off. What did come as a surprise, though, happened upon waking up. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept, but there was a steady stream of drool on his chin along with a slight crick in his neck. It was enough to hint that they should’ve been home, until he spotted the grocery bag in Jeff’s lap –

And caught the end of Papa’s passing comment.

‘‘…certainly didn’t seem impressed with you, that’s for sure.’’

Brow crinkling, Jensen wondered briefly who they were speaking about before re-closing his eyes, listening. He could hear the rustle of the paper bag in Jeff’s lap, dull hum of the radio, and Jared’s response.

‘‘Jensen’s still coming to terms with things, is all.’’

They were talking about _him_ , Jensen noted.

‘‘I don’t know…’’ Jeff hummed, mocking but thoughtful. Jensen could hear the words accompanied by a light scratchy sound that was, undoubtedly, Jeff scrubbing at his bristly chin. ‘‘Today’s been hard for him and you weren’t subtle when checking his diaper – _oh_ , and you’re abandoning us for a few days.’’

‘‘I’m not abandoning you both.’’

‘‘Uh-huh. Don’t think our boy thinks that, Jared. Explains why _you’ve_ been getting the stink-eye after changing his diaper.’’

‘‘He was just grumpy…overtired.’’

‘‘Keep telling yourself that, darlin’.’’

‘‘You think you’re a real comedian when you’ve had some beers, don’t you?’’

He would’ve been worried at the overheard conversation between the older males had it not been for the tone of their voices. Even groggy from his impromptu nap, Jensen knew it was all banter. Jared had that dry drawl of false annoyance while Jeff’s had taken on a musical lilt of teasing. Plus, even though they were speaking about him, it wasn’t enough to keep him awake. Daddy and Papa often talked about him even when he was visibly conscious and, with his eyes closed and nothing too interesting being said, Jensen was ready to drift back off into sleep, enjoying when Jared let out a gusty sigh.

‘‘Jensen’s sensitive, that’s all. He was self-conscious after he... ‘’’

And Jensen popped his eyes open and stopped listening. He wasn’t… _sensitive_. Not really.

Fists clenching in the soft fuzz of his plushie’s fur, he glared at the back of Jared’s head. He had half a mind to speak up and tell the man who wouldn’t be embarrassed over pissing themselves. Instead, Jensen slipped into something he would later deny: a sulk.  
  
‘Cause there was _no way,_ Jensen told himself, _no way_ would he miss his tactless daddy after _this_. He wasn’t that sensitive, after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE THANKS as always.

‘‘I don’t know if I should be jealous, or offended.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘You never used to leave prepared meals like this for me when you left town in the past. I don’t know if I should be happy, or feel useless.’’

Jared frowned at Jeff’s comment, but didn’t reply given the light, teasing tone. Busy, Jared continued and rearranged the contents of the fridge one last time. He finally managed to stuff the food container in his hand under a cantaloupe when he felt his husband creep up behind him. The older male hugged him from behind, beard trickling the side of his face as Jeff peered over his shoulder and into the bright, cool glow of the fridge.

‘‘Putting sticky-notes on the fridge, making meals for me to re-heat…’’ Jeff trailed off. ‘‘You are aware you’re leaving your husband, not a pimply teenager, to look after Jensen, right?’’

Snorting out a laugh at the comparison, Jared glanced sideways. ‘‘Oh, c’mon, I’m not bein’ that bad.’’

‘‘Between Jensen’s bad mood and you running around, I’m telling you, babe, today has _dragged_ by.’’

‘‘Maybe for you,’’ Jared grumbled.

Today had flown by for Jared. He had hoped to spend Sunday playing with Jensen longer than he had, but there seemed to be so much to do. It wasn’t even work related stuff, either. Jared had packed his duffle bag and laptop before Jensen had woke for breakfast and, by midmorning, everything work-related had been triple checked and done, leaving him for the more domestic side of things.

And, yeah…Jared knew he didn’t have to prep meals and leave little reminder notes on the fridge, but he felt better for it. For all that Jensen seemed a mix of sulky clinginess over Jared’s departure, the long-haired man himself was jittery and uneasy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jeff with their baby boy’s welfare, Jared loved and trusted his husband more than himself. He just wanted to be here, too, and enjoy time with their son as much as possible –

‘‘You’re such a stress head,’’ Jeff said, fondly, into the curve of his neck.

Jared relaxed under the light brush of lips. ‘‘Sorr – ’’ he began to say, until a sharp nip below his earlobe had him hissing. ‘‘Ow!’’

‘‘I was only doing that to stop your unwanted apology. You know I love you and your stressy quirks.’’

‘‘Yeah, right,’’ Jared tried, and failed, with trying to look hurt.

Instead, he ended up smiling as he bodily shoved his husband away. The slightly shorter male winked, chuckles visibly rumbling through his bare chest as he walked backwards in a pair of threadbare Seahawk sleep pants. Jared would’ve appreciated the sight Jeff made, had he not focused on the fact Jeff had so obviously changed from his lazy Sunday attire of baggy clothes to his obvious pre-bedtime clothing.

Almost as if Jeff understood his accessing glance, the older man spoke up. ‘‘I got Jensen bathed ready for bed, he’s inside watching a movie while I get his bottle ready.’’

Jared felt his stomach swoop with disappointment. ‘‘Bed?’’ he echoed. ‘‘It’s not even seven thirty yet.’’

‘‘Yeah, and he’s still drained from yesterday’s socializing,’’ Jeff shrugged. ‘‘That, and the fact you’ve got to be up before 5AM means _you_ need an early night. So, if you’re having an early night, he needs an earlier night.’’

‘‘Can we keep him up ‘til eight…maybe, nine?’’ Jared wheedled.

It merely earned him a silent, unamused look from Jeff.

‘‘Fine,’’ he huffed, accepting defeat. It probably wouldn’t be fair, nor fun, to keep Jensen awake longer than usual. The kid had long gotten used to the set out routine and, while sometimes flexible, he had a feeling Jeff didn’t want to deal with the consequences of waking a sleep-deprived baby up the next morning. In the end, Jared pressed kiss to his husband’s prickly cheek and meandered off towards the living room.

It was upon entering the living room which Jared discovered that his Little One, apparently besotted with the blue and purple furred character on screen, was standing directly in front of the flat screen. The latter has Jared frowning, the age old reprimand his momma used to say about sitting too close to the TV coming to the forefront of his mind.

Still, Jared can’t bring himself to disrupt Jensen. The little male is as endearing as always with his tousled hair and white, one-piece pajama dotted with chubby, orange kittens. As expected, Jared can’t help but take a moment to soak up the image Jensen makes from the golden-brown tufts of his hair to his tiny, bare wiggling toes. The kid’s so mesmerized with what’s on the TV that his jaw has even dropped, his pacifier threatening to fall out his mouth while Jared finds himself smiling at it all.

His baby boy isn’t just cute, he’s _happy_.

And Christ, it’s _beyond_ good to see Jensen smile – the little guy had been in a fluctuating mood since last night, a peculiar on-off combination of grabby hands and skulking around furniture with a crumpled face. If Jared thought the sullen aftermath of changing Jensen’s diaper at the barbecue yesterday was bad, it certainly wasn’t close to how Jensen had been today. Jensen’s usually sunny, albeit shy and sometimes grumbling, disposition had been replaced to a temperamental little devil…

Jared had lost count of the amount of times Jensen had swiftly changed from scowling at him in favor of clinging to his leg and burying his face into the back of his knee. That, and the frequent, if somewhat frustrating, game of Unpacking Daddy’s Duffle which, for all intents and purposes, involved exactly what it was called. Jared had put a stop to that the third time around by actually remembering to shut the safety gate they had set up where the T-shaped corridor ended and square-ish, main entrance hall began. Only then had he kept Jensen’s sneaky, little fingers from re-opening the duffle bag in the master bedroom…

Which, of course, hadn’t improved Jensen’s mood.

Turned out lack of access and the inability to remove Jared’s neatly packed items made Jensen’s scowling efforts double. Still, Jared wasn’t entirely fazed at the grumpy display. If anything, he found it all rather adorable and, idly, wondered if he would be returning home to a grudge, or an extremely clingy baby boy. Right now, however, Jared seems to have a Little who is either ignoring him or hypnotized by the television.

‘‘Jen-seeeey,’’ Jared calls out.

His son doesn’t respond; green eyes glued to the TV screen.

Scoffing in a mix of amused surprise, Jared walks closer to Jensen’s spot and sits down, joining him. Still there is no reaction. In fact, he can see a small dibble of drool threatening to slip over Jensen’s bottom lip, until Jensen promptly sucks his pacifier back into his mouth. Jared finds himself looking up to the TV for an answer of Jensen’s sudden reanimation, and grins at the unfolding scene of the horned, blue-purple furry monster running away with what seemed to be a small, round, green-skinned eyeball.

‘‘Excitin’, hm?’’ Jared murmurs, trying again. ‘‘Daddy doesn’t think he’s watched all this movie before. What is – ?’’

A small, clammy hand against his mouth silenced him.

‘‘Unn!’’ was the only verbal, albeit grumpy and garbled, reply he gained from Jensen.

Smiling against little fingers, Jared couldn’t help but notice how his baby boy had seemed to have only turned his entire body towards him, but not his head. Those green eyes were stuck to the brightly colored images upon the TV, leaving Jared to try a new venue of getting Jensen’s attention. He didn’t really have to think about it, he merely went with instinct and mouthed at the hand pressed against his lips, emitting a cocktail of dramatized eating sounds.

Jensen jolts at the sensation, his hand quickly whipping away with a surprised screech…and a glare send in the direction of Jared.

‘‘Oh, hello there,’’ Jared greeted upon _finally_ gaining attention. If he wasn’t mistaken, Jensen appeared to have a reluctant, twitching smile curving around his pacifier. Naturally, Jared took advantage of the good mood by scooping Jensen onto his lap, caging the boy’s Modified body with his down-tilted head and arms. He barely managed to inhale a whiff of the fresh, sweet-powdery babyish scent that clung to Jensen when the boy squirmed and grizzled, clearly not amused Jared was blocking the view of the TV.

‘‘Am I in your way, sweetpea?’’ Jared continued, feigning innocence.

Grumping, Jensen carried on with fighting a full smile and, instead, batted Jared on the chest. Taking the hint, the long-haired male straightened up his posture, no longer curling half-over his baby. He didn’t hold back the chuckle any more than he did with the urge to kiss Jensen on his rosy cheek and whisper:

‘‘I love you, kiddo… Daddy’s gonna miss you and Papa like crazy.’’

If Jensen heard him, Jared doesn’t know, but the boy does curl himself closer to his chest while watching TV.

* * *

Jensen wouldn’t lie.  
  
His grumpy mood and plan of not missing Jared never did reach fruition. It withered away and drilled a hole in his chest the moment he spotted his daddy’s tidily packed duffle bag on Sunday morning. That didn’t say he didn’t try; Jensen attempted everything from being disruptive to ignoring Jared in a bid to stop the slow-building ache in his chest. Yet, waking up on Monday and going through the usual routine merely solidified the reality of the situation of Jared’s absence.

Like, he had to wait, perched on Jeff’s hip, as the bearded man readied his pre-breakfast bottle of milk.

Normally, Jensen would be nestled in the crook of Jeff’s arm, groggily listening to his parents chatter over the newspaper as Jared warmed milk. Or, the other way round, and Jensen would be cuddled against Jared’s chest while Jeff did bottle duty. Yet, it wasn’t just the waiting that highlighted the lack of Jared in his and Jeff’s day – no, it was other things, too. Jensen couldn’t control the way an invisible chain continued to tighten around his chest at each instance Jared’s lack of sheer presence hit him.

Although, for a little while, he could silently pretend to himself that Jared was still home. Sometimes, Jensen would actually forget and believe in the fantasy that, while he and Papa were playing with his train set outside, Jared was inside. It probably helped that Jeff spent most of the day being super attentive, distracting him to the point Jensen felt genuinely disappointed when, caught up in his inner lies, he’d enter the kitchen and expect to see Daddy sitting at the table with his laptop or chopping vegetables at the counter.

The latter situation only happened once or twice, when Jensen had been at Jeff’s heels and excited over something. Those two instances, however, felt like a sucker punch in the gut. So, it was no wonder, really, why Jensen stopped pretending Jared was still about the house. But that wasn’t to say that stopped the hurt and, as the day wore on, Jensen might’ve gotten a little misty-eyed each time he missed something Daddy did, and Papa didn’t.

Daddy hummed Jensen to sleep at naptime, Papa would read to him in that rumbly tone. When spoon-feeding him lunch, Daddy tended to make weird faces, often opening his mouth with an _‘ahhh’_ sound when encouraging Jensen to eat, yet Papa simply made choo-choo train noises. Daddy also let Jensen have extra meat at dinner without finishing his veggies first, while Papa insisted _all_ vegetables must be eaten before seconds. Then, of course, during one-on-one bath time, Daddy let Jensen play before scrubbing him clean, but Papa preferred washing him in sections: first hair, then time to play and, after cleaning his body, bath time was over.

They were all such tiny, little differences and, had it been Jeff who had left, Jensen’s pretty sure he would’ve been scrutinizing Jared’s way of things. Regardless, that wasn’t the case and it was Jared, _his Daddy_ , who had left for the lengthy drive to Los Angeles. The last time Jensen had physically seen his daddy had been last night, half-asleep and full of milk, when the floppy-haired man tucked him into his crib – and that was _ages_ and _ages_ ago!

Which was probably why, come Monday’s early evening, Jensen’s chest throbbed like a raw, open wound.

‘‘C’mon, fella,’’ Papa crooned at him. ‘‘Turn that frown upside down.’’

Rubbing one eye with a balled fist, Jensen tried to keep the tears at bay. It was just after bath time and, usually, getting clean and put into comfy nightwear made him happy. Not this time, though. No, this time, he had gone an entire day of not seeing Daddy and, torn between being holding a grudge or wailing with heartbreak, Jensen had taken his frustrations out on the one-piece pajama Papa had put him in.

And, by frustrations, Jensen meant yanking the snaps open and kicking it off while Jeff went to get something from another room. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to wear the blue star dotted garment, but his hands kind of had a mind of their own. Between kicking up a fuss and rolling about the couch to silently vent, he had unintentionally stripped. Hell, he had been so aggrieved – so red faced and fussy – that he barely noticed Jeff had returned into the living room until he spotted the man standing over him with a startled, yet bemused, expression on his bearded face.

‘‘Alright, Oscar the Grouch,’’ Jeff managed to exhale a chuckle. ‘‘Settle down, you’re gettin’ tetchy.’’

Jensen stuttered out a huff and, with a sour expression, let Jeff easily lift him up, righting him from his upside-down sprawl upon the couch. His papa didn’t pull him into his lap, though, and it was almost like the older male knew that Jensen needed a moment. Still, it was less a moment and more a second which he needed, leaving Jensen to let his needs be known via a wet sniff and raised arms.

Papa responded immediately, sweeping Jensen’s half naked, diaper-clad form into his lap. ‘‘I know, I know,’’ Jeff pacified, complete with delivering a few scruffy kisses. ‘‘Today hasn’t been easy, has it, sunshine?’’

All Jensen could do was nod; throat tight, eyes itchy, and chest empty.

‘‘Shall we get you back in your jammies and some juice?’’

Shrugging, Jensen let Jeff’s soothing, gravelly voice wash over him. Despite his brooding mood, the older male kept smiling and coaxing as he re-dressed him. Calmer, Jensen accepted the chilled bottle of grape juice that followed as Jeff, soda can in hand, returned to the living room. The pair of them had just, literally, sat back down on the couch when the iPad on the coffee table emitted a peculiar, ringing noise.

Jensen felt his mood do a complete 180-degree turn.

The excitement must’ve been clear on his face given the way Jeff laughed. Jensen was only doing what came natural, though, he had forgot – until now – about the promised Skype calls. He might’ve squealed, urging Jeff to _hurry up_ via frantically drumming his palms against the man’s forearm because Jeff was being _so slow_ with setting down his soda can, plucking up and putting on his glasses before finally – _finally!_ – reaching for the iPad and swiping the screen.

It happened instantaneously: a flickering flash of color that shifted into the image – no, the footage, of Jared. After the initial pixilation, everything was clear and Jensen just gawped over the teat of his bottle. Jared, with slightly frazzled hair and a partially unbuttoned dress shirt, seemed to be in the common, neutral décor of a hotel. Vaguely, he heard Papa greet Daddy, but Jensen remained transfixed at clarity and sight of fox-like eyes and deeply-carved dimples…until Daddy moved to tuck a strand of hair behind one ear.

The captured movement knocked Jensen out of his stupor, and he smiled so hugely upon _seeing_ and _hearing_ his daddy’s cheered greeting:

‘‘There’s my baby boy!’’

Jensen hated that the fact he suddenly felt like he could breathe a little bit better already.

* * *

The video call lasted an hour and, between his son’s sporadic, verbal inputs, Jeff was the main one who held up the conversation on their end. He and his husband conversed like usual, like Jared wasn’t two hours and twelve minutes (depending on traffic) away from their home in Bloomingfield. Between asking about Jared’s first writing class and coaxing Jensen to _‘‘wave at Daddy!’’,_ Jeff and Jared exchanged subtle comments about how their little one was coping.

Jeff used the word, ‘fine,’ which, given Jared’s smirk, was translated correctly to: ‘‘Our son misses you terribly, but we’re coping.’’

The younger, long-haired male practically preened over the obvious meaning, and Jeff could only laugh. Besides, despite the unravelling upset Jared’s absence was inflicting upon their boy, Jeff found it beyond endearing to watch the way Jensen stared worshipfully at Jared throughout the Skype call. Alas, the call ended soon enough and watching Jensen’s plush pout, timid wave and dipped mood wasn’t as fun as the former…

It was probably why, a few hours later, getting Jensen to sleep had been too easy. Jeff wasn’t blind; Jensen had been in a silent tantrum of flailing around on the couch before Jared’s call yet, after said video call, his little man was simply dejected. The kid practically put himself to bed by curling into the corner of the couch, away from Jeff, and sulking himself to sleep. He tried to not take it personally, especially when his few attempts of coaxing Jensen for his usual bedtime bottle resulted in a whiny growl more suited for a kitten.

Either way, Jeff found himself tucking his half-asleep, grizzly baby into his crib for the night earlier than expected. It was odd but, it was only when he returned to the silence of the living room that he was at a loss. Clearly, he had gotten used to his and Jared’s routine since bringing Jensen home and how, when Jensen was often put down for the night, he and his husband often dominated the couch, vegging out together. It wasn’t even the lack of conversation, but the absence of comfortable silence and company that Jeff found himself coming to terms with.

So, it was no surprise, really, that Jeff clambered into his own bed earlier than usual.

What did come as a surprise, however, was how quickly he fell asleep water a few exchanged texts with his husband, of course. Yet the point still remained: he dropped off into a quick and easy sleep…until a sharp, startled yelp crackled through the baby monitor.

Jeff practically flew out of his bed, sheets tangling around his ankles as he stumbled, half-asleep and blurry-eyed, towards the nursery. Although vaguely astonished Jensen’s cry had woken him, the heavy sleeper, he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he announced his arrival, producing some sort of call that was more yawn than words as the warm, pale glow of Jensen’s night light greeted him upon entry into his boy’s room.  

The little man in question didn’t look like he had been crying long, which was something a relief. In fact, Jensen seemed to have just woken-up, his lower half still hidden beneath his patchwork blanket. Yet, such a comfort didn’t last long when Jeff zeroed in on wild, glassy green eyes and tiny, shaking form within the crib. Something heavy and cold settled in the pit of his stomach at such a sight, especially when he noticed the eerie silence that followed Jensen’s yelp.

Aside from his baby boy’s shuddering panting, there was no noise.

No sobs, no hiccoughs…just a silent stream of tears trickling from wide, frantic eyes. Jensen had even lost his soother during the night and, now, appeared to be stifling his panicked breathing with a small fist pressed against his mouth. Instinctively, Jeff reached over the crib’s railing, his hands automatically reaching in collect his son and –

‘‘Christ, you’re _soaked_ , sunshine,’’ Jeff blew out a breath, taken aback.

Because it was true: Jensen was wringing with sweat. It wasn’t even the usual, sleep flushed sweat his boy occasionally had during moments of deep, deep sleep. No, Jeff could feel the cold, moist skin through the little one’s sleeper, the patches of perspiration making cotton garment stick and cling. Frowning, he brushed a roughened palm over the Modified Little One’s scalp, making the dampened locks stick up like a hedgehog. He would’ve laughed at the hairdo had it not been for the concerning situation of feeling Jensen’s heart trying to escape his ribcage. That, and the fact Jensen was seemingly terrified, undoubtedly caught up in his own mind.

‘‘Jensen, hey…’’ he whispered, waiting for a response.

Jeff wasn’t a mind reader, but he could assume Jensen had a nightmare. All the signs were there and it was the only thing that explained his boy’s current, jittery state. Sweeping a hand down the small, clammy back seemed to draw Jensen out, though. It took a several beats yet, once Jeff felt those teary eyes upon him, he offered a wiry smile.

‘‘Hey, baby,’’ Jeff tried, again. ‘‘Papa’s here.’’

Jensen just gulped and blinked owlishly.

‘‘Did you have a bad dream?’’

Jensen didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk but did offer a wobbly nod before thunking his head against Jeff’s collarbone. Feeling strangely inept, Jeff could only wish for his husband’s aid as he continued his petting and stream of hushed, comforting utterances. Out of all the times Jensen had to have his first nightmare, it just _had_ to be when Jared wasn’t here. He inwardly cursed and, idly, pondered that maybe it was Jared’s absence that sparked said nightmare in the first place.

‘‘C’mon, sweetheart, tell me what happened,’’ Jeff enticed.

Aside from a shuddering, explosive exhale from Jensen, he gained no response.

‘‘It was just a dream,’’ he carried on. ‘‘Don’t you wanna tell Papa about it?’’

Jensen merely shivered, and Jeff decided to leave it be – for now. It was late, or early depending on the perspective, and he needed to pat Jensen dry, change his diaper and slip him into fresh pajamas. Plus, Jeff’s bed was calling to him. He didn’t realize how tired he was until now, but it made sense. Looking after and keeping Jensen preoccupied without the respite of another adult to share the workload was hard work…

And it had only been _one_ day.

Either way, Jeff could do this; it wasn’t like Jensen was difficult, his boy was a breeze in comparison to others. Still, he stepped up to the dresser, half-listening to his baby’s snuffly breaths against his neck as he pulled out a clean onesie. Jeff swayed his way over towards the changing table and leaned forward, beginning to lower Jensen down for a much needed outfit change when small, clammy fingers frantically latched onto his bare chest, accidentally pinching his skin and tugging at his body hair.

Jeff winced, holding back a hiss; his and Jared’s boy certainly had a strong grip.

Aborting his task, he straightened back up, holding Jensen close. ‘‘Okay, okay, I got you,’’ Jeff murmured, hastily. ‘‘We’ll just…wait. We’ll have a little cuddle before getting you changed and, yeah. You’re okay, sunshine.’’

* * *

Jensen woke up in a patch of late-morning sunlight, warm and content.

He was in the big bed, Daddy and Papa’s bed, with his face pressed against something soft, warm and somewhat furred. Although muzzy with sleep, he didn’t need to open his eyes to know he was using Jeff’s stomach as a pillow. For all that his daddies were well-built, muscled men, they – like all people – differed in various aspects. One element of such happened to their tummies and, as much as he loved curling up on Jared’s overly firm abdominal muscles, Jensen had to admit he had a particular fondness for Jeff’s stomach.

The latter man’s belly was toned, but softened slightly with age. It was comfy and, without a shirt, the thatch of dark, pelt-like body hair tickled Jensen’s cheek. The sensation, along with the occasional spin-gurgles that emitted from Jeff’s gut, was grounding to the point that Jensen wasn’t ashamed to admit…

Particularly after last night’s dream.

Jensen pulled a face at the reminder of last night. He felt stupid and pathetic with how he reacted over a dream. It hadn’t even been necessarily bad, especially when compared to the real-life experiences that hadn’t sent him spiraling into the mess he had been last night. The dream itself had simply been, well, uncomfortable…and pretty damn daunting, if he had to be honest.

But still, he felt pretty lame at how worked up he had gotten. There had been no shouting, violence, or anything relatively disturbing. It had just been a random, fleeting dream of waking up and finding the house – his _home_ – empty and seeing Jeff and Jared – his _daddies_ – leaving without him. Dimly, Jensen could remember his dream-self running after the car his daddies had been in, except the vehicle hadn’t been Jeff’s vintage, Chevrolet Impala or Jared’s SUV, Ford Expedition.  
  
No, they had been leaving in his biological father’s, Alan Ackles’, pride and joy.

It had been jarring to see Jeff and Jared leaving in the same dusty, first-generation Dodge pick-up that had abandoned Jensen all those years ago. Baffling, but shocking. In retrospect, it was no wonder Jensen had woken up in such a silent, weepy mess last night. He always tried to ignore the thoughts and memories that surrounded Mama and Da– _no_ , Donna and Al Ackles.

Jensen clenched his fists around Honey’s ears and buried his face against Jeff’s belly. It was hard to breathe with his pacifier lodged in his mouth and nose pressed against warm, hairy skin. Yet that didn’t matter, not when it was a good way to stop any resurfacing memories of early childhood. He held his breath and grimaced as his lungs began to burn –

Until fingers, familiar and calloused, skittered against the nape of his neck.

Held in breath leaving his nose with an audible snort, Jensen relaxed. He kept his face down, pressed against his papa’s tummy. It was less about hiding and more to do with the magical fingers lightly scratching at the base of his skull, toying with the small wisps of hair that lay there. Eventually, the lulling gesture stopped before he dozed back off into sleep and, reluctantly, Jensen turned his head to peer up towards Jeff’s happy face.

‘‘Mornin’, sleepy baby,’’ he greeted. ‘‘Better?’’

Jensen smiled widely behind his soother – something Jeff seemed to appreciate and return. The man chuckled and propped himself further up on the pillows, careful of not disturbing Jensen’s comfy spot. It looked like Jeff had been awake for a while and, considering the larger male had his unoccupied hand curled loosely around the cell phone upon his chest, it was clear he had been passing the time on the device. Doing what, Jensen didn’t know, but the glimmer of curiosity and, perhaps, want, must’ve been evident in his expression given Jeff’s following response.

‘‘Daddy sends his love.’’

Brightening at the mention of Jared, Jensen pushed himself upright…only to discover his slanted spot upon the bed.

Huh. Jensen blinked and rubbed at his face, a little slow on the uptake. It appeared that, throughout the rest of the night, he hadn’t just kicked the comforter towards Jeff, but he had tangled one leg around the lightweight cotton blanket that resided beneath the comforter. That, and he had been sprawled across the mattress width-ways with his feet near the strategically placed pillows Jeff had placed in the place Jared would’ve occupied.

‘‘And yes,’’ Jeff carried on, teasingly, ‘‘I texted him how much of a wiggler you are when he isn’t here.’’

Jensen let out a good natured huff. ‘‘No, y’wiggle.’’

‘‘Oh ho, do I now?’’

Offering a nod, Jensen let a smile take over his expression.

‘‘Cheeky, fella.’’ Jeff playfully knocked him on the shoulder. Jensen went with the slight force and flopped backwards onto the bed. He retaliated, though, by holding Honey by one of her long ears and thwacking Jeff’s knee with her. The man produced a drawn out, dramatic, _‘‘owwwwwch,’’_ that had Jensen giggling way before Jeff snagged him by the ankle to blow a raspberry upon the sole of his foot.

‘‘Looks like somebody’s woken up in a good mood despite last night, huh?’’ Jeff said, releasing Jensen’s foot. ‘‘You had me worried, sunshine…’’

Jensen felt his face fall at the reminder.

‘‘Now, now, don’t look like that. Everyone has bad dreams, sweetheart, even me.’’

Avoiding Jeff’s honest eyes, Jensen rolled onto his belly, ready to crawl across the mattress and slip off the bed –

Until Jeff, quite seriously, sighed. ‘‘C’mon, don’t you trust, Papa?’’

 _That,_ Jensen decided, was a low blow.

Trust was such a big, big thing. And, considering Jeff and Jared had been nothing but strangers over a month ago…well, Jensen liked to think he had shown the two men more trust than he did to that one foster couple who had been nice and kept him for half a year. Still, he sucked on his pacifier in contemplation and wrung the cotton blanket between his hands. Talking about his bad dream wasn’t the issue, it was the follow-up questions that would surely follow and the further questions that would spawn from that until Jensen was left hollow and raw with suppressed emotions resurfacing.

Either way, Jensen ended up telling Jeff of his stupid, wussy dream. He purposefully kept his pacifier lodged between his teeth, letting his words mumble and eyes avoid Jeff’s own. The pacifier worked a charm, though. It kept Jensen from slipping into too much of a panic and, after his series of short sentences, Jeff sat up and scooted close enough to run a comforting hand over his head.

Naturally, he tilted his head and pressed his face into the warm, calloused skin of his Papa’s hands.

‘‘No wonder you were out of sorts,’’ the bearded man murmured, far from condescending like Jensen fretted. ‘‘But,’’ Jeff added, taking a firm grip of his chin. ‘‘You should know that Daddy and I aren’t going anywhere, especially without you. Okay?’’

Jensen clamped his teeth down on the plastic teat of his pacifier. It was nice to hear that, he supposed. And, as soothing as it was, a barb of doubt continued to rattle around inside his stomach. Yet, it was good to know he could confess to certain things, like mention in passing _‘‘but you both were in my – Al’s truck!’’,_ and not be bombarded with question about his biological parents and the how, why’s and when’s that encircled his past.

* * *

It was late afternoon on Tuesday when Jeff was glad he wasn’t a single parent.

Less than forty-eight hours since Jared had left and, already, Jeff had reached several epiphanies. One of which being how single parents needed a selection of goddamn medals. Hell, even the stay-at-home daddies or mommies needed a medal when their other-half was away working for several hours a day. Inwardly, Jeff wondered how Jared would cope when he returned to work at the Warehouse with Jim – until he recalled how much Jared was a _natural_ with all Littles.

It wasn’t that Jeff wasn’t good with little ones, because he was, it was just…balance. The lack of having someone to take some of the workload meant the responsibility was solely upon you with zero back-up, or respite. To say Jeff was getting a taster of such with Jared away felt like a _huge_ understatement. After waking up and failing with getting Jensen to divulge in his nightmare, it was like Murphy’s law had taken over.

Because, Jeff noted, with Jared gone and Jensen in a peculiar state: Anything that could go wrong, certainly had gone wrong.

At least, so far it did: He’d stubbed his toe when unlatching the safety gate. He’d burned the French toast to near cremation (although, to be fair, he had been busy trying to coax a clingy Jensen into his highchair). Plus, he couldn’t get Jensen to go down for his nap, adding crankiness into the equation of an already upset, little boy’s temperament. Then, of course, what small amount of smiles he had gained from cheering his baby up with a finger-painting crumbled away under an apologetic text from Jared who had been wrangled into an out-of-class pow-pow with aspiring writers.

It turned out his husband wouldn’t be able to Skype until after 9PM, a time which Jensen would’ve been tucked into his crib. That didn’t mean Jared left their little one hanging. Jared had called mid-walk from his final class to the restaurant he and a select few of his overly eager male and females of all ages had chosen to eat/discuss in. After sharing a few private words with Jeff, the younger man had asked to quickly speak to their son who, literally, sagged at the disappointingly short exchange.

Clearly, this was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back to Jensen’s low mood.

‘‘Oh, sweetheart…’’ Jeff said, utterly lost and exhausted.

Aside from finger painting, today had been horrible. The only positive aspect was getting Jensen to open up a little over his dream, and even then Jeff had to bite his tongue from asking questions about the presumed name of Jensen’s biological father. Yet, that wasn’t the issue right now, not really. Jeff was just as tired as Jensen, without his nap and poor sleep, looked.

The kid in question was near howling and clutching the wireless landline phone to his chest like it was Honey or, perhaps, Jared himself. Jeff had gone from fluttering about and attempting to extract the phone, to simply hauling his baby boy up into a bear hug. There was nothing he could really do but comfort and hold and let Jensen cry out more than what must’ve been upset Jared’s absence.

These tears were probably raked up fears, lack of sleep and general grumpiness directed at Jared, Jeff supposed.

Either way, all he could do was pace around the house and rock Jensen in his arms – a tactic he learned from his husband. Apart of him wanted to swaddle the boy, knowing how it soothed Jensen’s restlessness when he was ill or fussy, but he _couldn’t_ swaddle; it was _fiddly_ and Jeff would probably do a better job rolling Jensen up like a cigarette as opposed to all that folding. In the end, when Jeff was very close to slipping out his comfort zone and teetering on the edge of hopelessness, he heard the doorbell ring.

The unexpected noise not only had him stumbling to a halt in his steps, but also surprised Jensen enough into quieting down into a hiccup. Jeff sighed, relieved, and pressed his lips to Jensen’s brow. He shushed and patted his boy as he made his way over to the front door, wondering who his unexpected savior could be.


	16. Chapter 16

Upon opening the front door, Jeff finds his legs assaulted by two, small forms.

The pressure of little bodies and grasping hands bumping against him is hastily followed by _noise_. Boisterously happy and familiar noise that leaves him blinking at the one visitor who isn’t mauling him in greeting: Sam. Jeff can’t help but be hyper-aware of his appearance, and that’s something he hasn’t felt since the early stage in his and Jared’s relationship. Yet, who could blame his current thought process when he was standing in front of a woman who looked casually impeccable despite running around, not one, but two, little boys?

He feels strangely inadequate at this parenting-thing when left alone, especially when he’s been caught at, possibly, the worst time. Jensen’s red-faced and snotty, his diaper fresh on but the lone, article of clothing – a t-shirt – bares the remains of a messy lunch, and Jeff knows he looks no better. Spittle and spilled tears aside, his top his relatively clean and, thankfully, he is wearing something other than boxers. Although, the baggy, knit shorts he happens to be wearing could be in better condition (Jared was forever nagging him to throw them out) and, okay, they’re visibly damp in some spots due to post-finger painting wash up, but it could be worse. Still, the day has been difficult, for both parent and adult baby, and Jeff can only imagine the uncontrollable mess he and Jensen look like.

It probably doesn’t help matters that Jensen’s silence doesn’t last long and, for whatever reason: remembered grief or overtired frustration, lets out an ear-ringing squall.

‘‘…Hey,’’ Jeff, somehow, manages to greet his unexpected guests.

Chris and Steve are still clinging to his legs, although now they’re looking less joyous and more wary. Jeff can almost envision their Little thoughts and interpretations over Jensen’s clear distress. Obviously, it’s the Big Bad Grown-up’s fault and, given the narrowed look of Chris’ icy eyes, Jeff assumes he’s hit the nail on the head.

Luckily enough, Sam is looking more amused than horrified at him.

In fact, the woman steps forth, ushering both big and little males further into the hallway. Jeff can only run on autopilot and bounce Jensen in his arms. Idly, he wonders _why_ Sam has Vicki and Misha’s boys as Sam bends down to say something to Chris and Steve. Regardless, it doesn’t matter, not when whatever she says sparks Chris into snagging Steve’s hand and darting off into the living room behind them.

‘‘Oh, dear. What’s with all these tears, Jensen?’’ Sam says, and she sounds so sympathetic towards Jensen despite the wicked gleam in her eyes when she looks at Jeff.

Jensen’s cries lower in volume, but not much else.

‘‘It’s been…’’ Jeff tries, pauses, and re-thinks his words. ‘‘As you can see, it’s been one of _those_ days.’’

‘‘Oh, I see.’’

There’s a poorly hidden smile taking over Sam’s lips, and Jeff doesn’t think he should find it comforting. He’s prickly and frustrated and – Jensen’s squirming a lot more since his Aunt’s arrival. Shifting his attention back to his boy, Jeff looks past the crumpled, tear-streaked face and silently curses. Clearly, he notes, there is an added bonus to Jensen’s upset in the form of crippling shyness meeting sudden shock at being seen in a diaper. It’s such a little thing, especially when Jeff compares it to the fact Jensen has used his diaper and worn his diaper in public. However, at the same time, it’s understandable:

  
A) Jensen is sensitive, b) his and Jared’s boy gets embarrassed over the silliest of things, and c) Jeff supposes there is a key difference having a diaper under one’s clothes and being seen in said item.  
  
Besides, it’s the only logical conclusion as to why Jensen is furiously wriggling in his arms and avoiding Sam’s touches. The kid is trying to tuck his knees up, hide his bare legs against Jeff’s chest while stretching the back of his t-shirt further down, like such tactics are really going to hide the bulky white of his diaper. It’s ridiculous, but oh- _so_ -very cute that Jeff feels some of the day’s built-up tension dissolve away into amused affection for his little boy.

‘‘C’mon, little man, no more tears,’’ Jeff cajoles Jensen. ‘‘I’m sure Auntie Sam, Chris and Steve came for your smiles.’’

‘‘Of course we did,’’ Sam soothes, and Jensen seems to not shy away from her hand upon his back.  
  
Jensen’s cry wavers off into a croak, leaving Jeff to praise him. ‘‘That’s my boy.’’

The silence feels deafening now Jensen isn’t crying. Although, Jeff can hear the faint murmurings from Chris and Steve travel from the living room. The sound of their childish speak plus his grasped control of easing Jensen into sniffles makes him grin. Uncaring how gross it might seem, Jeff lifts up the hem of his t-shirt to tidy his baby boy’s face up, uncaring of the noticeable, snail-trail of mucus now decorating the lower-half of his shirt.

He does take a moment to smile at Sam while doing the latter task, though. ‘‘So, uh. Not that I’m ungrateful for your visit, but…?’’

‘‘Am I spying on you?’’ Sam practically cackles. ‘‘Hell, no, Jeff. I’m just getting my kicks at seeing how you’re coping without your better half.’’

‘‘How caring of you,’’ he replies, dryly.

Sam’s face softens a little into something more understanding. ‘‘I’m kidding…sorta. I’ve got the boys today while Misha’s tending to poorly pets and Vicki is busy with clients. I’ve spent most of the afternoon down the road at the country park running about on the grass with the boys.’’

‘‘Oh.’’ Jeff offers a wiry smile. ‘‘Trying to tire them out, eh?’’

‘‘That was the plan. Although, for the sake of my sanity, I had to stop by to see ‘baby jenny’ or I’d have never heard the end of it.’’

Chucking, Jeff led the way forward into the living room with Jensen grumbling in his arms and Sam at his heels. Steve and Chris barely noticed their appearance, the long-haired duo seemed to be enraptured by the array of toys Jensen had, particularly Mr. Bear. Even Sam looks mildly surprised upon spotting the obese, man-sized bear – something Jeff ended up shrugging sheepishly over while explaining, ‘‘Jared’s purchase, not mine.’’

‘‘Mhm, whatever you say,’’ she rolled her eyes at his poor excuse. ‘‘Now,’’ Sam continued, tone firm, ‘‘park your backside down while I get you and your Little One a drink.’’

‘‘Sam, I – ’’

‘‘You look ragged...and you’ve got yellow paint in your beard.’’

Scowling, Jeff was prepared to stand his ground. He wasn’t hopeless, he didn’t need help, he –

‘‘Sit!’’ she instructed.

Jeff complied without thought and dropped down onto the couch with a grunt. Sam looked victorious as she, like most of their friends, made herself at home. He watched her bustle off into the kitchen before brushing his lips against Jensen’s golden-brown crown, muttering. ‘‘She’s kinda scary, huh?’’

‘‘Heard that!’’ Sam hollered from the kitchen.

With a snigger, Jeff sunk further back against the couch cushions while Jensen produced a heavy, stuttering sigh before languidly tilting his head back to look up at him. Poor baby, Jeff thought. His little guy looked wrecked, absolutely exhausted. He pulled Jensen closer, arranging him into the crook on his arm and thumbing away a few, stray tears.

‘‘A little rest before dinner, I think,’’ Jeff whispered to his boy. Jensen looked ready to drop off – until the couch cushions bounced from the impact of Steve and Chris clambering beside him. The pair looked mere seconds away from starting up an argument over who got to sit closer to Jensen when Sam reappeared, solving the situation with a sweep of her occupied hands a few hushed words.

‘‘Come on, sit nicely, now. Don’t you two want to be big boys and help Uncle Jeff?’’

Jeff would’ve protested whatever Sam had in mind but, before he could speak, she pressed a cool glass of lemonade into his hand. He barely managed an, _‘‘Uh,’’_ when she removed Jensen from his one-armed hold and, quickly but gently, placed him across the combined laps of Jensen’s two, older cousins. Aside from a little whine, Jensen didn’t react further than a widening of his green eyes and deeper flush upon his cheeks as Sam slipped a cushion onto Steve’s lap, effectively propping Jensen’s upper half up.

‘‘There we go,’’ Sam murmured, making small adjustments to one of the three little males.

She proceeded to hand over a bottle of milk to Chris. Only then, Jeff noticed, did Jensen get with the program and begin to sit up and grizzle. He was already placing his glass of lemonade on the coffee table to collect his Little One up when Sam nudged Jensen back down, shushing him, while helping Chris guide the teat of the bottle between Jensen’s lips. Jeff narrowly barked out a laugh at the indigent expression that plastered Jensen’s face; it was utterly hilarious to see his son’s failed attempt at a glower when his cheeks were bulged out with the fast flow of milk.

Either way, despite Jensen’s grumpy need to return to him and Jeff’s own nervousness at the situation, Steve and Chris seemed ecstatic. Chris chattered away in a low, awed tone as Steve let out giddy, little giggles while petting Jensen’s belly and listening to his brother. Sam plopped herself down on the arm of the couch, closest to Jeff, leaving him to occasionally intervene to lower or higher Chris’ hold on the bottle to adjust the flow. He didn’t need to do the latter much and, after Jensen gave out a series of small, jerky leg kicks, his boy seemed to calm down, especially when Jeff kept a hand upon one of Jensen’s feet.

Jeff embraced the lulled atmosphere as he mindlessly swept his thumb back and forth across the tops of tiny, rosy toes. The physical touch appeared to be a perfect way of reassuring Jensen he wasn’t going anywhere, allowing the boy to close his sluggish eyes. Between the sound of Jensen’s heavy, snuffled suckling and his nephew’s gentle babbling, Jeff regained full balance; the frustrations and worries of lone parenting washing away.

Well, at least a little bit.

One particular thought kept circling around his mind and, quietly as to not disturb Jensen’s half-dozing state, he turned to Sam. ‘‘How the _hell_ did you cope by yourself with Gabe 24/7?’’ Jeff hissed, genuinely curious. ‘‘Vicki or Tom might have their Little Ones when Misha or Mike are working, or vice versa, but their partner always comes home to help a few hours later.’’

‘‘God, you’re thick,’’ Sam scoffed.

Jeff felt his eyebrows lift towards his hairline. ‘‘You’re full of compliments today.’’

‘‘Well you are,’’ she smirked, elbowing him lightly. ‘‘Seriously, being a single mommy to Gabe was the best thing in the world, yet when I needed time for myself or found myself stuck, who helped?’’

Oh, Jeff realized, his fingers stilling upon Jensen’s foot. That’s right; he and Jared often helped Sam out with Gabe, along with Misha and the others. In fact, with clear thoughts and Jensen’s wailing no longer ringing in his ears, Jeff knew their close-knit group often looked after each other – Hell, the amount of times he and Jared babysat for Milo or the others seemed innumerable. Clearly, Jeff concluded, single-parents or stay-at-home parents retained their sanity thanks to those around them helping the workload and offering breaks.

‘‘Uncle Jeff…’’ Chris’ poor attempt of a whisper gained his attention.

Glancing towards the small trio, Jeff smiled. ‘‘Yeah, buddy?’’

Chris pulled a face, clearly thinking. ‘‘Why is – ?’’

‘‘Jenny’s – um, s’eepin’ but won’t stop,’’ Steve chimed in, beating his sibling to it.

‘‘Huh?’’ Jeff straightened his slumped posture to take a proper look at his baby boy.

‘‘Look,’’ Chris sounded a little frustrated as he elaborated through action.

So, ‘look’ Jeff did. Firstly, he let out a huffed sound of humor at the sight of Jensen conked out with his head lolled against the cushion and Steve’s torso. His kid was fast asleep yet continuing to go through the reflex action of suckling, but not swallowing. It resulted in, thankfully, no choking or spluttering, and only a lot of dribbled milk. Jeff was ready to take the half-full bottle off Chris, assuming this was the issue, but no. Chris demonstrated the main problem by slipping the bottle’s nipple out of Jensen’s mouth –

That resulted in the most needy, fragile sounding whimper Jeff had ever heard from Jensen.

Vaguely aware of Sam being unable to suppress a coo, Jeff bit his lip to hold back the urge to tease his best friend as he noticed the way Jensen’s fingers curled and toes wiggled. Chris put an end to any waking, though. The dark-haired tot hurriedly stuffed the bottle back in Jensen’s mouth, effectively halting the grumpy noise and sleepy movements. Jeff sent Chris a smile and a hushed, _‘‘One sec,’’_ whilst quietly removing himself from the couch to grab the diaper bag tucked upon the recliner.

‘‘Poor little guy, he must’ve been real tried,’’ Sam empathized. ‘‘I’m surprised he didn’t cry himself sick. What _was_ that all about before, anyway?’’

‘‘Missing Daddy and a lack of sleep last night with zero naps today,’’ Jeff confessed, scrubbing at his jaw.

‘‘S’eepy baby Jenny,’’ Steve whispered, to himself or him, Jeff wasn’t certain.

Either way, Jeff sent the lighter-haired Collins’ a wink and rummaged about in the diaper bag. He grabbed the two items he needed: a thin, sea-foam colored muslin cloth and a pacifier. Having Jensen fall asleep mid-feed wasn’t so strange in itself, although for his son to do this way before bedtime was only a testament to how exhausted Jensen must’ve been. Still, it was pretty common to see that small, freckled nose scrunch up in sleep when he or Jared removed a bottle Jensen didn’t want to part with…  
  
‘‘Here,’’ he turned to Chris and Steve, ‘‘want to see a trick?’’

The nods he received from the pair were so quick in movement they had to be brain rattling.

‘‘Alrighty, then,’’ Jeff said. He folded the cloth, quickly and gently swiping the stream of milk escaping the side of Jensen’s mouth before tucking the folded cloth under his son’s chin. Now, Jeff thought, was the ‘trick’. ‘‘Here, Steve, you hold Jensey’s binky and carefully put it in his mouth when Chris removes the bottle, ‘kay?’’

‘‘Yuh-huh.’’

‘‘Okay then,’’ he smiled. ‘‘Off you go, Chris.’’

Chris didn’t look impressed, like he expected to be the catalyst of making his newest cousin cry from the act Jeff was instigating. Jeff merely prodded Chris’ hands, urging them to slowly move until, reluctantly, the boy did as prompted. Steve, on the other hand, happily played his part without prompt before Jensen could do anything more than pout in the seconds of his unconscious mind registering the loss of his bottle.

‘‘See, no tears,’’ Jeff affirmed. He felt strangely refreshed from Sam’s company and his nephews' wide grins and, unable to help himself, ruffled the sibling duo’s hair with praise.

* * *

Wednesday rolled onto a new start, and Jensen supposed that, after yesterday, Jeff was taking a new approach with keeping him less…tearful. The older man did everything from having an unburnt breakfast ready and staying warm under the grill before waking him, to encouraging Jensen into having an afternoon nap on the big bed with his papa curled around him.

Jeff even managed to get Jared to call during the mid-morning break between his writing workshop and promise Jensen about having a _‘‘super, super long’’_ talk via Skype later on. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean Jensen’s mood suddenly lifted from the mess he had been in yesterday, but it did feel greatly improved. Besides, it was pretty easy to not revert into the same blubbering mess of frustrations, crankiness and worries of yesterday when Jeff was so chipper.  
  
It was like the older man had woken up with an edge of confidence, or simply a decent night’s sleep or, maybe, something else. Whatever it was, Jensen found himself swept up in the infectiously good attitude, especially when a small part of him had begun to expect Jeff to dump him with someone else until Jared came back.  
  
But, no…Jeff didn’t seem to be ditching Jensen anytime soon. Despite the niggle of worry at the back of his head and obvious, uneasiness over trusting Jeff’s occasional, _‘‘Papa’s not going anywhere, bud,_ ’’ Jensen found himself starting to believe Jeff’s reassurances. After all, the older man hadn’t done anything for Jensen _not_ to believe him, yet.

Still, Jensen wasn’t going to take the chance.

Which was exactly why he remained glued to the man during their post-nap excursion to Belhaven. How many times Jeff had tried to set him down during the walk to the country park, he didn’t know, but the man had finally gave up. At least, Jensen thought so, until he was proven wrong. They had just strolled past the Café & Grill and the mass of customers sunning themselves on the tables outside when, a few paces ahead, Jeff came to a halt in front of a massive, barn-like structure before sneakily, and skillfully, setting Jensen down on his own two feet.

He couldn’t stop the startled, mildly scared squeak that left him any more than he could control how his hands flitted up to grasp onto the material of Jeff’s jeans. The horrible, gut-tightening feeling of _doubt_ resurfaced, and Jensen sucked rapidly on his pacifier. His thoughts must’ve been obvious, or Papa really was a mind-reader, because Jeff remained half-bent in his tall posture to cup and kiss his face.

‘‘It’s okay, sunshine, Papa’s right here,’’ Jeff told him.

Jensen stepped atop the man’s boots, attempting to use the extra inches to physically climb the man’s legs. A small, fleeting part of him wanted to analyze that neediness and tell himself to get his act together, but no. Jensen suppressed those honest but nasty, little thoughts in favor of indulging the slow-build of panic and –

Jeff made a point of grasping one hand around his smaller, clammier one. ‘‘Don’t you want to hold Papa’s hand and help him surprise some people, Jensey?’’

Okay, Jensen thought, that didn’t sound too bad. It certainly made Jensen’s heartbeat slow down, too, the rhythmic sucking of his soother following suit. Curiosity began to tickle the edges of his mind and, happy to know he still had physical contact with Jeff, gently shuffled off the man’s foot.

‘‘There’s my brave baby boy,’’ Jeff beamed down at him. ‘‘C’mon, let’s go see what these slackers are up too…’’

Eyes unmoving from his papa, Jensen let himself be navigated through the wide wooden doors. He wondered how someone like Jeff – who looked gruff and a little rough around the edges – could pull off wearing a diaper bag without so much as a dint into his overall appearance. However, Jensen’s silent admiration towards the older man was swiftly replaced with wide-eyed discovery upon looking at the interior of the building they had entered.

It was _huge_ place with thick, wooden beams and walls that seemed to go on forever. Aside from the glass panels in the door, the only source of natural light seemed to spill in from the massive skylights that illuminated the array of furniture pushed up against the walls or set up in the center, directly upon a raised, rectangular platform. There was even a set of stairs that led up into a loft area that seemed to house computers and file cabinet, although he couldn’t see much else or where those stairs began due to his limited height. Yet, what Jensen noticed most of all was the comforting scent of warmed wood and something mildly musty.

Jensen openly gawked, barely noticing Jeff’s besotted, fond look at him. This, he decided, was a great distraction from missing Jared. If anything, Jensen slowly let himself drift further into his childish whims and thoughts, especially when he spotted all the interesting little spaces under or around the displayed furniture as perfect spots to explore with Honey. He squeezed Jeff’s calloused thumb within his grip and excitedly swept a curious finger of his unoccupied hand across the smooth, solid surfaces of various furniture they walked past.

He must’ve made a noise because Papa began to chuckle. ‘‘Shh, we’ve got to be quiet to surprise – ’’

‘‘Hello?’’ a new, delicately female voice cut through the air. ‘‘I’ll be down in a sec!’’

‘‘Quick, Jensey, hide behind me,’’ Jeff whispered, his face alight.

Confused, but complacent, Jensen followed the motion of the older male’s hand leading him around his larger form. Although reluctant to let go of his papa’s hand, he ended up clinging to the man’s leg and toddling after Jeff’s long yet purposefully slow stride down the wide pathway between the rectangular platform and furniture pushed against the walls. By a few steps, they had come to a stop in front of what must’ve been the cash register, yet it looked more like an old fashioned reception desk.

Peeking between Jeff’s legs, he could finally see that the stairs began somewhere behind the towering desk. That, and it obviously separated the space between where customers could and couldn’t go. Jensen could also see a bricked wall and the top of a door over the desk and…window? It certainly looked like a window, and he would’ve strained his neck to try and get a proper look if his papa didn’t tap him playfully on the head, urging him to hide.

He managed to do just so before Jeff shouted up in the direction of the loft. ‘‘Standards have certainly dropped here!’’

There was a faint mutter from above that was hastily followed by a clack of heeled shoes and –

‘‘Jeff!’’ a young woman appeared over the banister, looking down. ‘‘Oh my god, hey!’’

‘‘Hey, Gen.’’

‘‘What are you doing here? Jim said you’re off until late September, spendin’ time getting your and Jay’s Lil' One settled – _Oh_ , and you _need_ to send more pictures, by the way. He’s adorable!’’

The last part of her sentence ended with a squeal that didn’t just make Jensen wince, but also made his face and ears tint pink with embarrassment. In the end, he stopped listened to the young woman – Gen – gush and fire questions at his papa about him for the simple act of not overheating his head via extreme blushing. Instead, Jensen tried to get a better look at Gen as she trotted down the stairs, a batch of papers and files tucked under her arms.

She looked similar to Sandy, only Unmodified, physically younger and, seemingly, friendly. Gen had long, glossy hair tucked back into a wild ponytail and warm, brown eyes. She was all smiles and excitable chatter that reminded Jensen a little of his daddy in some ways. He felt a small twinge in his chest at that latter comparison that he didn’t notice Papa talking until he was scooped up and plopped onto the desk beside the cash register.

‘‘Surprise!’’ Jeff cheered, sounding so very happy as he kept his hands upon Jensen’s torso. ‘‘Much better than spying on the photo messages I sent to Jim, isn’t it?’’

Gen quickly dropped the items in her arms onto the desk with a gasp. Apart of Jensen expected another squeal or something equally loud. Yet, if anything, it was like she just _knew_ to keep her voice at an appropriate volume around him…

‘‘Hey there, beautiful boy, I’m Genevieve,’’ she greeted him softly, her gentle, slender fingers brushing across the palm of his nearest hand. ‘‘Damn,’’ Gen turned her head back to Jeff. ‘‘Katie’s goin’ be jealous I met Jensen before her.’’

Jeff snorted at her, his attention slipping back towards him. Naturally, Jensen shuffled closer on his bottom to curl closer to the man. He earned a kiss, a form of silent praise, before Jeff returned to conversing and catching up with Genevieve. Jensen left them to it, not entirely caring that Gen still had a light hold on his hand, the pad of her thumb stroking across his palm. After all, everything was fine with the situation as long as Papa stayed put.

Plus, seated up on the desk allowed Jensen to be nosey. Up here, he could see the thick door and narrow, rectangular window set in the brick wall behind the desk. It was the window that captured his attention the most, though. The door obviously led into the viewable room, and Jensen was given a glimpse an area that looked very alike to Jeff’s workshop at home. Well, that and the lone occupant inside said room, bent over a bulky piece of machinery that appeared to cut through wood like butter.

Jensen strained his ears, catching the barest of hummed noise, wondering why he couldn’t hear the loud noise that should’ve emitted from the backroom when Genevieve slipped into his view. She pressed a button on the wall by the window which, much to Jensen’s inner delight, made a bright, red light flash within the backroom, catching the occupant’s attention. It all came together then; the lack of noise, the machinery, the use of a light (not buzzer). Clearly, the backroom was a workshop, albeit more high grade than Jeff’s own and ingenious use of attention-seeking lights, not audio, to not startle those who could be working on machines.

Amazed, he gaped around his pacifier, one hand still balled in the material of Papa’s shirt. He watched the occupant in the backroom turn around, and if Jensen’s first impression of Jeff had been ‘gruff looking’ then he had been introduced to the true meaning. The stranger was an aging male and most definitely appeared gruff with his thick, gingery-silver beard and narrowed blue eyes –

That widened, briefly, before melting into something softer.

A bright smile stretched the older man’s face, and he offered a quick wave before ducking out of sight. Jensen tried to follow the movement, but the man disappeared behind the wall. Plus, his actions of following mustn’t have been that subtle, especially when he heard Jeff’s deep, rumbling chuckle.

‘‘That’s Jim, Jensey, he’s not that interesting.’’

‘‘I’m far better than Grumpy Jim, anyway,’’ Gen added, her fingers wiggling against his side, tickling him.

Snorting out a giggle, Jensen plastered himself closer to Jeff, sitting sideways and avoiding Gen’s fingers. ‘‘G’umpy Jim,’’ he repeated, unable to help himself. Besides, it made Genevieve and Papa burst out laughing, and Jensen liked making others laugh, especially Jeff.

He was ready to say it again, until Jeff spoke up. ‘‘Grumpy Grandpa Jim,’’ Papa beamed. ‘‘Try that, baby – ’’

A loud clank of a heavy door opening silenced further persuasion from Jeff, and Jensen grinned around his pacifier at the guilty look on his papa’s face upon Jim’s reappearance. The older, fair-haired man simply shot Gen and Jeff a suspicious look as he stepped up to the desk, sliding alongside the female and gently placing a small, but deep, wooden box upon the desk.

‘‘What?’’ Jim said.

‘‘Nothing,’’ Jeff replied. ‘‘Absolutely nothing.’’

Genevieve rolled her eyes. ‘‘He was trying to get Jensen to call you Grandpa.’’

‘‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that confession for the sake of your kid, boy. Now have’a look in that box before I take it back.’’

In spite of not knowing the man less than a few minutes, Jensen knew the glower Jim sent Jeff was 90% false. The previous look of joy in the man’s blue eyes upon spotting their arrival had been raw, honest emotion of someone who cared for Jeff. Plus, the term ‘boy’ rolled off Jim’s tongue with gruff fondness, not belittlement. Still, Jensen stayed close to his papa and pretended to ignore the nervous, squirmy feeling deep down in his tummy at the sensation of Jim’s eyes sweeping over him. It was like the old man was silently evaluating him, weighing him up…

Jensen gulped audibly.

‘‘C’mere, Jensen,’’ Jim crooked his finger at him, offering a smile. ‘‘Let’s have a look at you an’ see what’s made Jeff and Jared deliriously loopy.’’

Unsure what to do, Jensen stayed still with his hand latched onto Jeff’s shirt. His papa was cracking open the small box, literally leaving him to a wolf known as Jim. However, no fear really came, not when Jim simply rested his arms on the desk to lean forward and tilt his head of thinning, short hair. Up close, Jensen decided Jim didn’t look very intimidating, especially when the man was smiling and sprinkled with sawdust – a scent that was so alike his papa’s own

Timidly, Jensen extended a hand and, for unknown reason other than instinct, plucked out one of the soft, curly wooden shards from the corner of Jim’s furry top lip. That certainly made the old man’s face split into a grin and Jensen, unknowing that he was doing so, copied the same, happy expression, albeit with relief. Whatever the case, Jensen no longer felt awkward as Jim continued to smile at him, planting a warm, friendly hand, weathered with age and work, atop Jensen’s scalp for a good tousle of hair.

‘‘Jim,’’ Papa interrupted Jensen’s moment. ‘‘When did…? ’’

Fretful at the croaky sound of Jeff’s voice, Jensen shrugged off Jim’s hand to check on his papa. His panic ebbed instantly, though. Jeff looked lost, but there was no reason to be sad. At least, Jensen guessed as much. He darted his green gaze between Jeff and the opened box, confused.

What could be so upsetting about farm animals?

‘Cause that is what the box contained: chunky farm animals, from sheep to chickens, and what looked like accessories of white fencing and chiseled blocks of ‘hay’. Naturally, Jensen reached in and grabbed the first thing his fingers came in contact with. It was heavy, like wood, and smooth and, upon looking at the item, discovered it was rotund, pink-painted pig.

Jeff coughed, clearing his sad-sounding voice. ‘‘Uh. I mean, is this for Jensen?’’  
  
‘‘F’course it’s for Jensen,’’ Jim sounded a little snippy, but no less kind. ‘‘As for when I began making it, well, it was after the first year you and Jared began lookin’ for a little one of your own. You two never set on wantin’ a boy or girl, so a farm is kinda neutral, I think…’’ the older man trailed off from his rambling, looking oddly bashful. ‘‘But, yeah, carvin’ is fiddly, more your thing, but I finished the basic selection of animals years ago. I couldn’t exactly give it to you, though, not when…well…’’

‘‘So Jimmy’s been making more and more animals,’’ Gen chimed in, breaking the lull. ‘‘I helped paint them, too.’’

‘‘Don’t go all teary-eyed, boy. It’s just a gift…’’ Jim said, obviously fighting a smile.’’ I didn’t even buy new wood, I used leftover cuts from projects.’’

Jeff let out a gusty, thick-sounding chuckle. ‘‘Damn, now I _really_ want to teach Jensey to call you Grandpa.’’

* * *

‘‘You eatin’ Daddy’s spaghetti?’’

‘‘S’ghetti,’’ Jensen gurgled.

‘‘Mmm, nice and tasty, yes, sweetpea?’’

‘‘Mm– _Mmm!_ ’’

Jared grinned goofily at the screen of his laptop and the glorious, albeit messy, sight of his baby boy mimicking him. Cooped up in his hotel room after class, he drank up all the details he could see in the unravelling video call. Be it Jensen’s spot in his highchair, or the blood red sauce sticking to the boy’s fingers and face, Jared saw it all. He also saw, and laughed, at the fond exasperation upon Jeff’s face as he tried to juggle feeding Jensen and himself while continuing to keep up their conversation.

‘‘You just had to call during dinnertime, didn’t you?’’ his husband’s soft grumble was picked up easily by the mic. ‘‘Sunshine – ’’ Jeff returned his attention to their son ‘‘ – _Jensen_. C’mon, fella, stop giving Daddy those Bambi eyes and finish dinner.’’

‘‘I’m making it up for my lack of appearance on Skype yesterday.’’

‘‘Babe,’’ Jeff said, serious. ‘‘Make it up by coming home early.’’

‘‘Yes,’’ Jared drawled at his husband’s tone. The man was almost as sulky as Jensen had been on the Sunday Jared had been packing. Still… Jared focused on Jensen. ‘‘One more sleep, baby boy!’’ he cheered. ‘‘You excited? Daddy got you a present, you know. Maybe not as good as the one Grandpa Jim gave you today – but it is still awesome!’’

Beaming, Jared lifted up his laptop, holding it during the short walk from desk to bed. He watched Jensen watch him, a smile stretching behind the sauce-stained fingers his son was quite happily sucking on. The kid extended his free hand towards him, seemingly trying to reach through the screen of the iPad Jeff had propped on the kitchen table, and proceeded to open and close his fist in a grabby motion.

‘‘Oh, you want your present now?’’ he teased gently.

‘‘Think he wants Daddy more,’’ Jeff murmured.

Jared waved his husband off, and carried on talking to Jensen. ‘‘Daddy can’t give your gift now, sweetheart. Not until I get home ‘round lunchtime tomorrow. How about a kiss instead?’’

Jensen pulled a face, his head swiveling between him and Jeff.

‘‘Like this,’’ Jared explained. He blew a kiss, complete with hand gesture and embellished Mwah-sounds, towards the screen on his laptop. Jensen reeled back from the action, looking at him like he’d gone soft, before breaking out into brief snort of amusement that had both Jared and Jeff laughing along.

‘‘Jensey, you’ve got to catch Daddy’s kiss,’’ Jeff grinned. ‘‘Here –’’ his husband inclined his head towards him, and Jared understood the silent request, ‘‘ – watch this.’’

Attempting not to laugh too much, Jared proceeded to repeat the act of blowing a kiss again. Jeff responded swiftly, pretending to catch the kiss in one hand before pressing the same hand to his own, whiskered cheek. Only then, did Jared allow himself to cackle. Oh, how he _wished_ he recorded that – Sam would have a field day teasing Jeff.

Jensen let out a soft sound before returning to his meal, signaling Jeff to continue to feed him via opening his mouth and leaning forward, although his eyes didn’t move from looking at the iPad’s screen. Jared beamed at the pair, his heart aching with the need to be with his baby boy and husband. He told himself it wouldn’t be long until he was back home, enjoying the company of family and friends. Still, he watched the way Jensen squealed, smacking the heel of his small hands onto the white, plastic tray of his highchair while Jeff tried to clean their boy’s face.

Unable to help himself, Jared stayed silent for several beats, enjoying the entertainment. It was only when Jensen’s happy noises ebbed into grumpy territory at not being able to see Jared upon the screen, did he intervene. For Jeff’s sake, Jared spoke up, voice cajoling.

‘‘Baby,’’ he put-in. ‘‘Let Papa clean your mucky face first, then you can have a go of catching Daddy’s kisses.’’

To say Jeff looked grateful at his minor help would’ve been a huge understatement. Jared didn’t know who missed who more, Jensen or his husband. One thing was for certain, Jared wouldn’t be leaving again anytime soon…

Unless, he supposed, it was an emergency.

* * *

‘‘Whoa! No, no, no.’’

Big, familiar work-roughened hands slipped under Jensen’s armpits and lifted him a little ways off the floor. He watched his feet, small and encased in faux-laced sneakers, skim the floor as he let his legs dangle. It was with a slight kick of those feet that Jensen discovered he wasn’t going to be put down anytime soon, especially when Jeff happened to sound a concoction of bemusement and fleeting panic.

Still, Jensen rolled his head back and smiled up at the upside-down features of Papa. The man looked a little worn around the edges, but happy. It was like an early morning of steering Jensen away from the front door on his lookout for Jared’s return and, now, making sure he didn’t get at the store in town had drained Jeff. Jensen couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty, a shy smile working out behind his pacifier as he stretched his arms up for an apologetic hug.

Jeff seemed to melt at that: his broad shoulders sagging and face softening. However, as quickly as the change came, Jeff scooped Jensen fully up to accept a hug.

‘‘You’re a hyper little fella today, aren’t you?’’ Jeff sighed, smiling lopsidedly.

It wasn’t his fault – that’s what Jensen wanted to say. Really, after a Sunday, Monday and Tuesday of muddled emotions and bubbling misery, who could blame him for being unable to keep still? Wednesday hadn’t been too bad, Jim and Gen were nice, but today Daddy was coming home in a few hours. Daddy hadn’t left him, and Papa showed no signs of disappearing either. Jensen felt stupidly excited with relief over the sheer prospect – let alone the actual, upcoming return of Jared – and, almost like a puppy who couldn’t control its tail yet, found his body acting on its own accord.

Legs wanted to run, feet wanted to bounce and –

Jeff was putting Jensen into the plastic, red seat of the shopping cart.

‘‘We don’t run off from Papa, okay?’’ Jeff said, tone stern but actions playful as he poked Jensen on the nose. ‘‘Last thing I need is to find you flattened by a stack of tin cans.’’

Jensen wrinkled his nose, unimpressed. Jeff, on the other hand, continued to talk. ‘‘You can stay put in there and help me find groceries so your daddy thinks you and I can function without him…’’

Making a noise of vague confirmation, Jensen sucked slowly on his pacifier.

‘‘Atta boy,’’ the older male pressed a bristly kiss to his brow. ‘‘Here, you can have Honey and this guy to ride shotgun with you…’’

Grateful for the extra company of his stuffed rabbit and dog, Jensen watched Jeff carefully wedge Honey and… ‘‘B’ue,’’ he murmured around his pacifier. His gifted blue, corduroy hound didn’t have a name, until now. And the name was simple, but fitting.

At least, until his papa misheard and repeated. ‘‘Boo?’’

‘‘Bloo,’’ Jensen corrected the man. Well, as much as he could around his binky.

Jeff seemed ecstatic, though. ‘‘Blue,’’ he ruffled Jensen’s hair. ‘‘Good job, sunshine. Think Blue can sniff out some crackers for us to find?’’

Humming, Jensen hugged his plushies close and peered around the surrounding entrance area of large grocery store. The place was full of activity from fellow shoppers, a small fact he had already known before entering the store. Jeff had ranted when finding a parking space in the lot outside, cursing the increase in shoppers and traffic under his breath. Even now, as Jensen looked between his papa’s furrowed brow and the accumulation of passing parents and older, biological children in the store, Jeff carried on to quietly complain.

‘‘Urgh. Looks like the schools have started summer break … _Great._ ’’

Jensen could only blink at the slowly grumbled words, not really thinking and more content in just being. He swung his legs back and forth, excitable energy bubbling under his skin as Jeff began to shop. Although, shop didn’t quite describe the way Jeff went about things, and Jensen discovered that Jeff wasn’t any good at organized shopping than Blue was at sniffing. He lost count of the amount of times Papa had to backtrack to grab some food they had passed moments before. And, while Jensen knew Jared wrote lists, Jeff seemed to adopt a method of ‘weaving’ which consisted of slinking up and down aisles upon aisles in the grocery store until he a) recalled an item they needed or, b) grabbed something on a whim.

Whatever the case, shopping with Jeff was fun, especially when the man made a point of stopping the cart if Jensen pointed at an item. It was pretty much how Jensen didn’t get too bored or frustrated at his pent-up energy and joy over Daddy’s return. Plus, it probably helped that Jeff kept including him. The bearded male would snag various bags of chewy, gummy candies and ask Jensen an array of things from, _‘‘will Daddy want gummi bears, or worms?’’_ to, _‘‘does Jensey want to pick some for himself?’’_

Besides, Papa picked up double-stuffed Oreos and, uncaring if Jensen wasted it, had grabbed a kiwi simply because Jensen had been particularly curious with the fuzzy, weird looking fruit. He’d never had kiwi before; apples and bananas were the only, if most common, form of fruit he had eaten in his lifetime so far. Until now, of course. Now, Jeff happy to encourage Jensen to pick up various foods to try and explore...

And that was pretty much why, upon arriving back at home, they had so many bags of groceries.

‘‘Down we go,’’ Jeff sing-songed, setting Jensen down in the hallway. ‘‘You head on in, Papa’s got to bring our stuff in from the car, okay buddy?’’

Somewhat reluctant, Jensen lingered in the entryway as Jeff walked back out the front door. He didn’t want to go – he wanted to be with Papa. Deciding to keep his papa company, and maybe a little nervous at being left alone, Jensen followed the older male’s trail out the cool air of the house and onto sunny warmth of the porch.

A slight creak from the Impala hinted that Jeff had swung open the trunk and, sure enough, Jensen could see his papa’s broad back by the end of the vehicle. He smiled to himself, good mood continuing, and carefully descended the wooden porch steps until his feet crunched lightly under pale, grey gravel. Stepping forth, Jensen craned his neck and watched Jeff scoop up as many swollen grocery bags as possible.

He carried on waddling over, just getting in reach of the older male when he spotted the small, fuzzy-brown fruit tumble out of the grocery bags. Jeff whispered something sharp, cursing himself, and Jensen decided to help. He half-listened to his papa rustling and fumbling with way too many bags in his arms and peeked up. He couldn’t see the bearded face, not when it was hidden behind the load in Jeff’s arms, but Jensen merely looked back down and retrieved the fallen kiwi.

Jensen beamed with one hand holding his prize, and the other resting upon the lip of the trunk. A pleased sounding gurgle worked up his throat at the sensation of prickly-soft fuzz against his hand. It reminded him a lot of how Papa’s beard felt. He peered up, ready to gain the older male’s attention and tell him of such when Jeff raised his elbow atop the opened trunk to push it closed –

Which directly slammed upon the unsuspecting fingers of Jensen’s unoccupied, left hand.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt like I was pulling teeth writing this chapter, couldn't stop re-writing...just hope you enjoy! Huge thanks as always darlings.

It was the short, shrill cry that cut through the air that alerted Jeff something had gone _wrong_.

The worst part was that he couldn’t identify the noise; it was foreign to his ears. For several beats, Jeff looked dumbly over the grocery bags in his arms as the door to the trunk sprung back up. It was a fleeting, idle thought, but his first idea had been an inward curse that the trunk’s latch was broken. That is, until the nanosecond of silence was shattered by a familiar, keening sound that Jeff recognized as one of the many noises his little son made.

There was a new edge to Jensen’s desperately wounded sound, though. For all that he recognized the loud, upset cry, it was different. That is, it was different to the point that it managed to make the hair on the back of his neck prickle and gut roil. Jeff wasn’t aware he was dropping the grocery bags until he stomped on a few of his strewn purchases in a bid to get near his baby boy. ‘Cause Jensen _right here_ , by the trunk of the car, and he was _yowling_ and –

‘‘Fuck,’’ Jeff spat, horrified.

He didn’t give a shit about letting slip a cuss word around Jensen, not when he had just fucking _crushed_ his baby’s hand. Jeff felt his blood turn to slush and heart stutter as he fumbled forward and dropped down onto his knees. Jensen’s wails fell into the background, becoming a strange static in his ears as he carefully tried to get a look at the hand the little guy was already cradling to his chest. He managed to get a glimpse of the true injury – rapidly swelling fingers – before Jensen instinctively curled in on himself, the pitch of his cries increasing.

‘‘No, no, Jensen. I need to see, I… ’’ Jeff faltered upon finding the words leaving his lips in a tone that was too frantic to be comforting. Inhaling sharply, he glanced at that little, scrunched-up face of pure, inconsolable pain and gushing tears and _tried_ the reel back the panic. ‘‘Papa needs to see, okay?’’ he asked softly. ‘‘Just let me – ’’

An awful, sobbing hiccup from Jensen interrupted him.

Jeff had no clue if Jensen was attempting to speak, or what. Either way, it didn’t matter when Jensen, quite literally, crumpled forward and down onto Jeff’s lap. All the older male could do was scoop the little man closer in one arm and use the other to hold the small, quivering wrist of Jensen’s left hand. A quick, scrutinizing glance didn’t tell him much aside from a lack of blood that, in itself, was a huge relief.

Still, he didn’t waste any time hanging around and, with a mix of whispered apologies, scrambled to his feet. Jeff didn’t become a carpenter without his own share of bashed fingers or skinned knuckles. Jim had always told him it was a part of the trade, often or not when gruffly offering him a bag of frozen peas to ice the injury. And that, Jeff decided, is what he needed to do for his baby boy, his Jensen.

Listening to those cries during the quick jog into the house, though – _shit_. Jeff was pretty sure a part of him broke upon hearing such raw blubbering. However, between chanting, _‘‘I know, fella, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry,’’_ and keeping a secure hold on Jensen’s wrist, Jeff managed to enter the kitchen without bursting into tears himself.

His inner torment and Jensen’s cries didn’t get any better and, if anything, both drastically doubled when Jeff had to apply the cold compress (courtesy of Sam’s first aid kit) to Jensen’s tiny fingers.

‘‘Look, little man, it’s a fishie,’’ Jeff attempted to distract.

It was difficult to say the least, especially when his son’s lung capacity was impressive and the distraction in the form of the aqua-colored, gel ice-pack shaped as a fish happened to be the cause of further pain. Jeff ended up biting the inside of his cheek, keeping his hand gently around both ice-pack and boy’s injured hand despite protested wriggling and the jabs from little elbows against his chest. Thankfully, this blind flailing barely lasted a few minutes and, with a choked cry, Jensen settled down enough to stop removing his hand.

‘‘Jensey’s being such a brave boy, yes he is,’’ Jeff attempted to heard over Jensen’s bawling. ‘‘Papa is so, so proud with his Lil' trooper.’’

‘‘Huuh-urts!’’

‘‘I know, I know,’’ he hushed. ‘‘But the fishie’ll make it way better, baby boy.’’

‘‘Wa-want i-i-it offff,’’ Jensen hiccoughed.

Christ, Jeff couldn’t reply to that. Not unless he ended up joining Jensen in a display of tears, albeit them more apologetic and guilt-riddled. Either way, Jeff tried to keep his act together and found himself matching Jensen’s huge, shuddering breaths with his own slower, calmer ones in a bid to regain some balance. All attempts of maintaining self-control failed almost immediately, however, upon taking a quick, cautionary peek beneath the ice-pack.

The sight of those tiny fingers, so _small_ and so _sore_ , sent Jeff into reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for his cell phone. On instinct, he was ready to call Jared yet, the moment his thumb hovered over his husband’s name, his senses came back to him. No way in hell could be call his other-half, not when the man would probably panic and rush and go all ‘momma bear’ on Jeff’s stupid, inadequate ways of keeping Jensen safe.

At least, that’s what Jeff’s conscience-stricken mind thought.

In the end, he wasn’t aware that he was swiping past Jared’s name and tapping on Sam’s contact number any more than he was with moving. But, there Jeff was: lodging the cell phone between his ear and raised shoulder, quickly exiting his home with a very, very distressed Little One. If he shut the front door or not, he hadn’t the faintest idea. Jeff remained focused on getting Jensen settled in the car-seat and leaving Sam a rather colorful voice mail about not picking up the phone. It was only during the drive to the local hospital and urging Jensen to, _‘‘keep fishie on your fingers,’’_ that Jeff’s brain re-engaged itself.

He berated himself, from the main issue of accidentally hurting Jensen, to hitting the highway at a speed that was way too fast. Drama queen, that’s what Jeff wanted to call himself. He was acting like his son’s fingers had fallen off, not mildly injured. It was like becoming a parent tossed common sense aside and the only thing which mattered was making it better, even if it meant zooming off to the emergency room for something as seemingly minor as bruising. Had it been his own fingers, Jeff was certain he would’ve treated them himself like he had in the past – the most memorable incident being his broken finger and a splint made out of a pen and duct-tape that he probably would’ve used until healed if it hadn’t been for Jared’s loveable nagging…

Jeff shook himself out of his thoughts and swung the car into the hospital parking lot. He flung himself out the car and reached the backdoor to collect Jensen. The kid was sniveling, his hurt, left hand curled against his jerky, hiccupping chest while the other, uninjured hand stretched in the direction Jeff with a sense of desperate _need_. It momentarily stalled him, the fact the boy still _wanted_ him despite being the cause of his hurt.

‘‘Up we go, sunshine,’’ Jeff said, trying his best to sound positive.

It probably failed, but it was okay because Jensen was clinging to him. He settled his boy against his hip, grateful and somewhat greedy when Jensen proceeded to burrow beneath his chin. With some soft shushing noises, Jeff was thankful he hadn’t unpacked the car entirely upon spotting the diaper bag. Knowing that they’d be in for a long wait, there was a small spark of joy at seeing that item, and he snagged it before darting off towards the emergency department.

As expected, the emergency room was busy and, between registration and triage, Jeff lost track of time along will the will to live. The wait to be seen was maddening, mind-numbing and heartbreaking all in one. He continued to fire texts to Sam and do is utmost with keeping Jensen settled in his lap by offering a soother, or Honey. It seemed to work to a degree, turning Jensen’s hiccupped whimpers into soft, wet snuffles...although that didn’t stop Jeff from glowering at the sour-faced teenager complaining loudly about the minor noise Jensen was producing.

Working his jaw, Jeff managed to prevail from growling at the young man in favor of focusing on Jensen. He cleaned the kid up, wiping away tear tracks and unclogging little nostrils, before taking a glance at his cell phone. The lack of returned calls from Sam made him groan and the passage of slow crawling time had him scrubbing at his face. They had been here for almost two hours and the clock was ticking towards 1PM, his husband’s estimated arrival getting closer as guilt began to seep further into Jeff’s bones –

When a slow, if unsure, voice spoke up. ‘‘Jeff…?’’

Head jerking up, he gaped at the approaching female. ‘‘Sam!’’ Jeff snapped. ‘‘I’ve been calling you!’’

‘‘And I’m in _work_ ,’’ Sam shot back, gesturing to her scrubs.

‘‘Oh...’’ he faltered, briefly, before dumbly adding, ‘‘You don’t work in ER.’’

She simply shot him a dirty look and, had she not been focused on Jensen’s somnolent expression, Jeff would’ve expected an ear full over his way of greeting her. Instead, Sam crouched down by the chair he occupied, all business, as she began to scrutinize the little guy’s fingers beneath the gel-pack that had long reached room temperature.

Feeling his stomach sink further, Jeff wished he could disappear, especially when she looked at him and asked, quite firmly: ‘‘What the _hell_ did you do?’’

‘‘I…You see, I didn’t see him and…Ishutthetrunkonhisfingersbyaccident.’’

‘‘English, Jeff,’’ Sam sighed, expression softening.

Exhaling a gusty sigh, Jeff repeated himself. ‘‘I shut the trunk on his fingers by accident.’’

Aside from a soft noise of acknowledgement, Sam didn’t say much. She was busy with Jensen again, asking him to _‘‘wiggle those fingers for me, kiddo,’’_ and an array and gentle coaxing. Jeff left them to it, only to intervene when Jensen’s whimper sliced through his heart for the second time.

‘‘Can you not do that?’’ Jeff almost snarled. ‘‘You’re _hurting_ him, Sam.’’

‘‘He’d be getting the same treatment I’m doing here in the exam room, I’m just saving you time,’’ Sam informed. ‘‘You’ll be stuck waiting for unnecessary x-rays at this rate. Nothing feels broken and, aside from bruising on the index, middle and ring finger, he’s fine. You did book a check-up with Mark, right?’’

Jeff grumbled, ‘‘Yes. I called the clinic yesterday after your constant reminders. We’ve got an appointment Monday morning, but I don’t see why – ’’

‘‘Then you can keep an eye on Jensen’s hand and, if unhappy, come back here or ask Mark on Monday,’’ she cut-in, lightly tugging him up. ‘‘Now, shut up and follow me…they’re understaffed down here but I’ll find someone to quickly see to Jensen’s fingernail and you can head on home.’’

He complied, following her past the desk and lingering awkwardly as she retrieved his handed-in paperwork. Jeff was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to do this, but he wasn’t going to complain. Jared should’ve been home by now and, given the lack of frantic phone calls, he guessed his husband was stuck in traffic. It was like some sort of fucked-up blessing having Sam appear and traffic slow Jared down.

‘‘Hear that, buddy? We’ll be home soon and get to see Daddy,’’ Jeff whispered into Jensen’s ear.

Jensen curled his arm tighter around his neck. ‘‘Wa-want ‘im now.’’

‘‘Soon, little man, soon,’’ he promised, idly patting the diaper-clad backside beneath his palm. Jensen let out a soft, cubbish noise and suckled noisily on his pacifier as Jeff followed Sam’s steps towards an exam room. She clapped Jeff on the back, propelling him and Jensen forward into a near-by room before catching the attention of a passing doctor. Jeff moved slowly, his attention focused on the familial greeting between Sam and the female doctor, catching snippets of words and Jensen’s name before slipping entirely into the room.

He had only just dumped the diaper bag on the floor and sat down on the bed when Sam reappeared. Her visit was, quite literally, a fly-by as she had been called down to ER for a task that obviously didn’t involve his predicament. That didn’t stop her from cooing sympathetically at Jensen and roughly patting Jeff’s cheek in what he supposed was a rueful, roundabout way of reassurance. Still, she didn’t loiter and, after administering Jensen with an oral syringe of ibuprofen, swept away with the promise to call him after her shift...

Then, it was the waiting game, _again_.

But, at least this time Jensen had better pain relief than a fish-shaped cold compress. He cringed at his idiocy and apologetically kissed his son’s brow. Jensen simply blinked at him, drowsy and undoubtedly fed-up, and Jeff decided to take the moment to stop berating and fretting and coax the boy into closing his eyes. It took a bit of work, but Jensen was snoozing heavily in the crook on his arm when his cell phone finally went off.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was calling him and, quickly, Jeff answered to the sound of his husband’s frantic greeting of: _‘‘Jeff? Jeff where are you? Is Jensen with you?’’_

‘‘Uh…’’ Jeff cringed at how his tongue felt like led.

_‘‘Jeff!’’_

Clearing his throat, he kept his voice low and calm. ‘‘Jared, babe, hey…’’

_‘‘Don’t you ‘babe’ me, I’m standing in our driveway looking at our open front door and – shit, Jeff, where are you and Jensen? And why are there groceries all over our driveway?’’_

‘‘Okay, right, so you’re home,’’ Jeff confirmed, aloud. It was more to his benefit than Jared’s, and he tried not to wince at the volume of his husband’s panicky, irate tone when the younger male told him to: _‘‘answer me, dammit!’’_. Eventually, Jeff did, albeit with some reluctance and an awful lot of groveling between telling Jared to stay put and –

‘‘We’ll be home soon. Jensey’s just got bruised fingers but they want to, uh, double-check, I think.’’

Jared didn’t seem keen to listen, though. _‘‘I’ll come up anyway,’’_ his husband insisted. _‘‘Did you go to Fairmont Hospital, or drive further towards – ?’’_

A soft cough interrupted Jared’s question, and Jeff looked up to find the same doctor who Sam had spoken to previously pointing towards the ‘no cell phones’ sign.

_‘‘ – Jeff?’’_

‘‘Babe, listen, I’ve got to go just…just stay put. We won’t be long. I’ll call you when we’re on our way home – love you!’’ he rushed the words out, happily using the doctor’s appearance as an excuse.

Jeff barely caught the sputtered sound of Jared saying something when he ended the call and jammed the phone back into his pocket. He offered a sheepish smile towards the female doctor, who merely tutted at him before stepping further into the exam room. She was blonde, smiley and quick to introduce herself as Dr. Samantha Smith. Jeff refrained from making a comment about how he seemed to attract females of that name group and similar age and, instead, answered her questions as she double-checked his friend’s findings.

‘‘Let me guess,’’ Smith began, tone conversational, ‘‘wife?’’

Tilting his head, Jeff was a little lost. They’d gone through verifying this and that and several, _‘‘we normally don’t do this, and we won’t be letting you skip the cue again, friend of Ferris or not,’’_ to random talk. He blinked, eyes darting between the female in question and her gloved hands that were currently slathering Jensen’s middle finger with a weird, pinkish goo that was supposed to numb the area.

‘‘On the phone,’’ she prompted.

‘‘Ah,’’ Jeff grinned. ‘‘Husband, actually. Jared, and he’s…going to kill me.’’

Smith’s lips quirked. ‘‘So you _are_ that Jeff.’’

He would’ve asked what that meant, not surprised in the least if _‘that Jeff’_ meant Sam had been telling tales to her colleagues about him. But, instead of questioning the doctor, he found himself clutching Jensen’s sleeping form a little tighter and, very almost, snatched his boy’s limp hand away from the small, table cart Smith had set between them. However, before he was able to follow through with his panicky, protective thought process, the blonde calmly explained what pen-like monstrosity she had in her hand.

‘‘It’s a hand-held cautery unit, I have to use it to drain the subungual hematoma on his middle finger. Your Little One won’t feel a thing…In fact, he won’t even know it’s been done unless you wake him.’’

‘‘Right.’’ Jeff gave a jerky nod, his lips tugging downward.

Watching her like a hawk, he guessed the sub-hema-thingy meant the horrid, purple-black color of Jensen’s nail upon his middle finger. The index and ring finger weren’t no better, Jeff noted, but the nails weren't as bad as the middle finger that had, obviously, taken the brunt of the impact. Regardless of degree of damage, Jeff continued to feel queasy with guilt when looking at the mottled, maroon-blue selection of bruises that dominated the trio of fingers upon his boy’s left hand…

He wanted to do nothing more than kiss each of those wince-worthy, swollen fingers better.

Alas, magic kisses didn’t exist, and Jeff was left to watch the doctor puncture Jensen’s nail with the hand-held, cautery device. He watched the trapped blood well up and spill out the damaged nail with cringing expression, three words rattling around his skull:  
  
Worst. Father. _Ever_.

* * *

Upon waking, Jensen squints open a bleary eyes and habitually begins to suck on his pacifier. He’s in his car-seat, and he’s groggy, hungry and _wet_. The latter has him pulling a face, a grunt of discomfort leaving him as he wriggles further upright in his seat. Having a damp diaper and a growing pang of hunger is the least of his troubles, though, and Jensen finds himself scowling down at the trio of blue-black fingers of his left hand…

They _hurt_ , but not as much as before.

His middle finger feels _way_ _better_ , though. Despite the lone bandage adorning that particular finger, the previously intense tightness that had surrounded the tip of his finger is gone. Now, all three of his fingers are nothing more than a dull ache that, seemingly, feels like it is throbbing in the same beat as his heart. Still, that doesn’t stop him from investigating the bandage upon his finger, and Jensen’s just began to pick at the adhesive strips surrounding the gauze when he hears Jeff’s voice from the driver’s seat.

‘‘You leave that on, sunshine,’’ the older man tells him while driving. ‘‘We need to keep that nail covered for a few days, but Papa can change it tomorrow for something less bulky.’’

Jensen blinks, his sleep-fuddled brain slowly coming back up to speed.

‘‘Hey, we can use the band-aids Auntie Sam gave us at the BBQ, yeah? The ones with the dinos?’’

Fully awake, Jensen gives a soft huff behind his pacifier as his brows clash together. Something doesn’t feel… _right_. He doesn’t understand what it is until he catches his papa’s eyes in the rearview mirror and, only then, does Jensen feel his chest tighten:

‘Cause Papa’s eyes look faintly glassy, and red.

Plus, the man’s usual rumbly tone is laced with something so blatantly remorseful and nervous that it almost – _almost_ – makes Jeff’s voice sound alien to Jensen’s ears. Unable to help himself, Jensen sits forward in his seat, the seatbelt straining as he attempts to reach his good hand towards Jeff’s broad shoulder in a bid of comfort. He can’t even skim his fingers against Papa’s shoulder, though, And Jensen finds himself whining lowly in his throat because the fingers-verses-trunk was _his_ mess up, not Jeff’s, and he really wants to give the soppy guy a hug.

‘‘Shh, I know, buddy. Papa’s so sorry,’’ Jeff misinterprets him. Grumbling, Jensen’s about to spit his pacifier out to tell the man what’s what until Papa continues, cutting him off with: ‘‘we’re home now, little man.’’

And they are…home, that is.

Jensen takes in the familiar scenery and crunch of gravel under the Impala’s tires as Jeff crawls the car down the long driveway towards the house. While the older male begins to mutter softly to himself, Jensen takes a moment to crane his neck as a flutter of anticipation fills him. Between the long wait in ER and falling asleep, he had forgotten what had been of great, excitable importance today, until he spots the familiar figure pacing back and forth on the front porch –

Dark shoes, tan pants, and a light-blue dress shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. Yes, the male figure on the porch is dressed different, a far cry from the lax attire that Jensen is used to seeing. Yet, even with dimples absent and face creased with worry, the floofy hair and Sasquatch height is enough for Jensen to _know_ its Jared.

Jensen feels his breath catch; a sudden burst of euphoria at the sight of _Daddy_ back at _home_.

He’s vaguely aware of Jared noticing their approach in the vehicle when the long-haired man stops pacing and practically jumps down the porch steps to meet them. Jeff’s barely stopped the car when, suddenly, Jared’s right at Jensen’s door, yanking it open and ducking in towards him. Any pent-up qualms or grudges he has against Jared’s absence vanishes the moment those large, paw-like hands cup his face for a series of quick kisses.

Daddy’s saying something alongside those kisses, too; the cooed words tickle Jensen’s face. He isn’t paying attention to what is being said, though, he’s solely focused on touch, scent and sight. The view of the towering mass that is Jared, in person, is just as glorious as the man’s soft hands and scent of vanilla and orange blossoms, albeit tinged with sweat.

The seatbelt can’t come off quick enough for Jensen and, caught in a frenzy of delight and delirious with relief, he doesn’t notice that his little body is shivering with sheer elation. Hell, Jensen isn’t entirely mindful to the fact he’s letting out a cried greeting, until he hears himself:  
  
‘‘Dah- _deee!_ ’’  
  
The word kind of just…spilled out.

He’s somewhat astonished, but mainly embarrassed ‘cause he thought, when the time did come with calling Jeff or Jared their parental titles, that it would be a thought out decision, not overwhelmed emotion. Yet, it doesn’t seem to matter, not when Jared finally scoops him out the car and into the mid-afternoon sunshine where he is greeted by two, blindingly bright smiles.

For all that Jeff had been subdued in the hospital and, seemingly, guilt-ridden in the car, the dark-haired man is smiling now, his eyes less dampened with upset. If anything, Jeff is sputtering out a giddy laugh, his head swinging between his husband and Jensen. Jared, on the other hand, looks downright dazed – like Jensen’s just shot him up with a hardcore drug, not bleated the word ‘Daddy’ via pure elation and relief.

Still, that brief lapse of silence is ended when Jeff lets out a rough chuckle.

‘‘Jay, babe, don’t gawk, didn’t you hear our boy?’’

‘‘Y-Yeah,’’ Jared sounded breathless, but ecstatic. ‘‘Jensey called…’’ he paused, his smile managing to expand further. ‘‘My sweetpea called me ‘Daddy’.’’

Face red, Jensen suddenly found himself held further up in the air by Jared’s long, long arms.

‘‘Did you say ‘Daddy’?’’ Jared sing-songed. ‘‘Did you? I think you diiiiid!’’

Jensen dangled above Jared’s head, a bashful smile working around his pacifier. His tummy felt fluttery in a mix of good-bad- _ohmygod_ that had him squirming. Thankfully, Jared adjusted his hands, dipping Jensen forward until they could brush noses. A soft, happy noise left Jensen’s throat as he took part in the fleeting eskimo kiss while Jared continued to cajole.

‘‘Can Jensey say it, again? Can he say Daddy?’’

‘‘Dah – ’’ Jensen felt his throat constrict. He wanted to. Really. He wanted to forever keep that goofy smile on Jared’s face and – he gulped. ‘‘D-Daddy,’’ he stuttered, before trying again, strengthening his tone. ‘‘Daddy.’’

Jared crowed out praise, peppering Jensen’s face in wet kisses before settling him against his chest. Even Jeff, who had been watching the exchange with an unbelievably soft expression joined in with a, ‘‘good job, fella!’’ that had Jensen’s face burning further. Both men sounded so proud, so happy...

But there was still something off with the situation, and it came in the form of Papa.

The eldest of the male trio was standing off-side, close, but not too close. Jensen snuffled against Jared’s neck, peeking and only vaguely listening to Jared’s overjoyed and somewhat weepy chatter. He kept his gaze latched on Jeff and, noticed the guilty glint he had seen in the car return to those chocolate eyes.

* * *

Jared had grinned so much that his face began to ache.

Daddy – it was a term Jared longed to be called and, at some point, almost thought it wouldn’t happen during his and Jeff’s failure at obtaining a consensual AB of their own. Yet, here they are, blessed with Jensen who had eventually came around to calling him ‘Daddy’. Today was, without a doubt, one of the best days of Jared’s life in spite of the negative aspect of Jensen’s accident.

Even thinking about those tiny, bruised fingers had him wincing in sympathy. He could recall the moment he eyed the damned trio of fingers and how he had wanted to shout, rage and place blame. He couldn’t and didn’t, though. How could he when he had been so relieved to see his two favorite guys alive and, relatively, well?

Jared’s mind had jumped to innumerable, terrifying scenarios when it had arrived to an empty home and grocery-littered driveway. Plus, he could hardly snap at Jeff when the man did return home with their baby boy, especially when his husband already looked like he had been through the wringer and –

‘‘I am sorry...’’

Jared pauses and, _yeah_ …his husband continued to obtain the hangdog look.

In the fluorescent glow of their en-suite bathroom Jeff looks _haunted_. It’s a sight that doesn’t appeal to Jared, and it makes his brow furrow and stomach twist at the veil of awkwardness and guilt that continues to cling to Jeff. His husband had been acting odd since they stepped through the front door and, at first, Jared had assumed Jeff had been stung by Jensen’s slow-growing use of the word ‘Daddy’.

But no. That wasn’t Jeff’s style, and his husband had been genuinely pleased at Jensen’s progress despite lacking ‘Papa’. Although, now…Jared’s struck by a moment of realization.          

‘‘You know I’m not mad at you,’’ he tells Jeff.

The other man looks at him blankly, toothbrush half-hanging out his mouth.

‘‘I’m not,’’ Jared insists. ‘‘I _was_ scared, though.’’

‘‘Babe – ’’

‘‘Accidents happen, so stop apologizing for that,’’ he interjects the older male. ‘‘It’s just – shit, Jeff. When I pulled into the driveway, saw your car was gone with groceries trashed on the ground and the front door wide open I…’’ trailing off, Jared shakes his head. ‘‘Whatever. I freaked.’’

Tension slips off his husband’s face, and Jared feels better seeing Jeff looking less ruined. There’s still something else there, though. Jared’s ready to prod, find out exactly what is troubling Jeff more, until the pitter-patter of small, bare feet against hardwood cut through their first, private conversation of the day.

‘‘Four minutes,’’ Jeff chuckles. ‘‘Now, that is a record.’’

Jared huffs under his breath; partly in relief at his husband’s perked-up demeanor and, partly, at the tell-tale sound of Jensen’s quick toddle down the corridor. Hurriedly, Jared finished using the toilet and tucked himself back in his loose, pajama shorts. He was lucky to even have his current four minutes to freshen-up, slip on something comfy and take a leak without his and Jeff’s baby boy latched to his side.

‘‘Da–Daddy?’’ Jensen’s voice, a jittery sniffle, emitted from the bedroom.

‘‘Right here, sweetpea,’’ Jared called back, grinning like a loon. He couldn’t get enough of hearing that word. ‘‘Give Daddy two seconds and – ’’

The sound of those footsteps picked up speed, heading in his and Jeff’s direction. Jared managed to wash his hands when faint bumping noises against the half-closed door followed suit, indicating that waiting wouldn’t be happening. Sure enough, the door creaked open, and Jensen’s head soon followed suit, peeking around the door with a look of growing ease.

Clearly, Jared mused, ‘Daddy’ currently meant: _‘‘I thought you went away, again.’’_

His silent translation was solidified when Jensen tottered forth, both arms raised. Beaming, Jared wiped his hands dry on a near-by towel before plucking the Little up. Immediately, small arms looped their way about his neck, and Jared soon found the fingers of Jensen’s uninjured hand swiftly wiggling their way into the lengthy strands of his hair.

‘‘Oh, I’ve missed these cuddles,’’ Jared gushed. ‘‘Daddy won’t be goin’ anywhere for a while, not without his baby boy, and not unless it’s an emergency.’’

The words made Jensen sag further against him.

Jared planted a kiss on one of his boy’s pinked cheeks and – pulled back. ‘‘Hm,’’ he eyed the crumbs on his son’s face. ‘‘And what have you been up to?’’

‘‘Mmm!’’ Jensen smacked his lips in response.

‘‘So, I see, very _‘mmm,’_ ’’ Jared replied, tone conversational. He thumbed the dark crumbs stuck in the corner of Jensen’s lips, knowing full-well that he had an Oreo thief in his arms as he wondered how the little guy had got them. Still…‘‘Explains why he didn’t notice me leavin’ the room for four minutes,’’ Jared whispered his thoughts to Jeff. ‘‘How he got them, that’s what I’d like to kno – ’’ he spotted his husband’s sheepish look ‘‘ – _Oh_. Really? You gave him extra cookies? This late?’’

Jeff ducked his head, suddenly highly focused on gargling mouthwash.

Rolling his eyes, Jared scoffed and glanced down at Jensen who appeared to be quite happily nuzzling his face against his bare shoulder. Honestly, he wondered what Jeff was playing at. They were both eager to spoil Jensen, especially when it came with food; the kid needed more meat on those little bones. Still, it was unlike Jeff to indulge Jensen when it went against the boy’s best interests.

Although, upon thinking about it all, Jared could recall that Jeff had given Jensen extra slack. First there was dinner and how Jeff hadn’t pushed Jensen into eating his salad and, then, it was Jensen’s extended bedtime and, now, the Oreos. If Jared didn’t know any better he’d think the older man was…what? Keeping Jensen sweet? Trying to apologize?

Actually, Jared noted, that seemed to be _exactly_ what Jeff was doing.

It also explained why the older man’s behavior. Clearly, the guilt of hurting Jensen must’ve been eating Jeff, forever the softie in spite of his rugged appearance, up. It was ridiculous, though. What happened to Jensen was an accident and retrospect was always a cruel thing when it came to assessing the _could’ve_ , _should’ve_ and _would’ve_ ’s of a situation.

‘‘You’re the worst,’’ Jared murmured towards his husband.

Jeff choked on his mouthwash. ‘‘W-ah?!’’

‘‘Jensey,’’ Jared carried on, ignoring his husband’s wide eyes in favor of looking at their son. ‘‘Jensey, tell Papa he’s silly.’’

Their baby boy wrinkled his nose. ‘‘S’..illy?’’

‘‘Yes, sweetheart. Say: ‘silly, Papa.’’’

‘‘Jay,’’ Jeff grumbled, ‘‘don’t force him. He’s already said ‘Daddy’ and I understand tha – ’’

‘‘Ah, no,’’ Jared interrupted the other. ‘‘That’s not what I’m doin’. Today’s been a tough, big day for our little man,’’ he began to correct his husband’s misassumption. ‘‘What I am doing, however, is making a point that you can stop apologizing to our son through Oreos when it’s not needed in the first place.’’

He watched Jeff wince at the discovery while Jensen, obviously picking up on the conversation, gave a wiggle in his arms. Idly, Jared patted the curve of Jensen’s diapered bottom and wondered if Jeff was going to deny what he had figured out. Yet, much to both parent’s delight, Jensen kept one arm curled around Jared’s neck as he stretched his uninjured, right hand towards Jeff.

‘‘Think he wants a hug, babe,’’ Jared beamed.

Jeff looked surprised, blinking for a few seconds before tentatively reaching out. Jared couldn’t blame the surprise, not when Jensen had kicked up a fuss when previously passed to Jeff, making it clear he only wanted to hold onto his newly returned Daddy. As for his husband’s overly cautious touch of smoothing a hand over Jensen’s head – no, Jared couldn’t hold back the eye roll upon speaking up.

‘‘Jeff, you’re not going to hurt him.’’

A self-depreciating laugh left the bearded man’s mouth. ‘‘Yeah, I thought I wouldn’t hurt him, even by accident…’til today.’’

Opening his mouth, Jared was ready to snap at the other man until Jensen beat him to it. The little guy produced a grumpy whine as he sent a thunderous scowl towards Jeff, the lack of pacifier only making the boy’s pout all the more pronounced. Jeff’s huge shoulders drooped in response, a twitching smile appearing on his lips and he glanced between Jensen and Jared. Inwardly, Jared smiled, knowing that the honest, albeit downright adorable, look on their son’s face helped dissolve the irrational guilt Jeff had been harboring the majority of the day.

Thankfully, Jensen didn’t stop there, and their Little One sealed the deal of holding no grudge for his sore fingers via one, shakily whispered word:

‘‘Pa…Papa.’’


	18. Chapter 18

‘‘Who am I, sunshine?’’

Jeff felt like his face was going to split in half at how wide he was grinning. He couldn’t get enough being addressed as ‘Papa’ and, over the long weekend, continued to encourage Jensen into using the word alongside ‘Daddy’. Even now, stuck in the waiting room at the local doctor’s office, Jeff carried on with his antics. He didn’t care that his repetitive game of getting Jensen to say ‘Papa’ earned him of the mixture of bemused-to-strange looks from fellow, Monday-morning attendees.

No, all Jeff did care about was the occupant in his husband’s lap, Jensen.

The little guy had refused to budge upon arrival for their appointment with Mark. Although clearly anxious, Jensen opted to remain glued to Jared (like he had since the man’s return) as opposed to playing with the large, colorful bead maze set up in the center of the room. It didn’t matter how many times Jeff tried to coax their baby boy to go investigate the wire and wood structure, Jensen seemed content to suck on his pacifier and curl closer to Jared while absently fiddling with Jeff’s fingers.

Looking down at his and Jensen’s joined hands, Jeff tried not to cringe at the sight of the boy’s left hand. Sure, the tender, swollen red-purple color of the bruises had faded into a dark blue by Saturday, but they still looked sore. A horrible pang of guilt resurfaced when looking at those little fingers, complete with the lone Band-Aid decorated with various, primary-colored dinosaurs…

At least, until he distracted himself with pestering Jensen. Again.

‘‘Go on,’’ Jeff continued to wheedle, wiggling his fingers in his son’s grasp

Jensen chuffed around his pacifier, half-hiding his face against Jared’s bicep.

Like that would deter him… ‘‘C’mon, sweetheart,’’ he beamed. ‘‘Don’t act like you haven’t been saying it all weekend. Go on, who am – ?’’

‘‘Jeff, leave Jensey be,’’ Jared interjected, sounding a mix between exasperation and amusement.

Still smiling, Jeff rolled his eyes before changing his tactic. ‘‘Just entertaining our boy, love.’’

‘‘Uh-huh,’’ Jared deadpanned. ‘‘If you want to keep him preoccupied, open the diaper bag for me.’’

Jeff did as he was told, although he did let out a heavy, put-out sigh that had Jensen smiling further. Opening the bag but not looking, he was ready to make the boy giggle via a blown raspberry when Jensen’s eyes brightened. At first, Jeff thought that look and the happy, little hum that followed was for him – until Jensen began to make grabby hands in the direction of the open diaper bag.

‘‘What…?’’ he trailed off, following Jensen’s focus, and blinked. ‘‘Oh. That.’’

‘‘Don’t sound too enthusiastic,’’ Jared murmured, sarcastic.

Jensen gave a light bounce on Jared’s thighs as the floppy-haired man reached in the bag to grab the book. Jeff felt himself smile despite the situation and tried not to laugh at his husband’s smug look. He couldn’t help but feel less enthused towards the packed item, especially when he could probably recite the entire thing with his eyes closed. The second Jared had gifted their son with the cute, personalized book he had picked up when out of town was the exact moment Jensen wanted both his Daddies to read it morning, noon, and night.

Which was an adorable development for the first 48hours. It was only by Sunday that Jeff found himself going to bed with the rhyming verses swirling around and around in his head…

‘‘Who loves Jensen?’’ Jared began to read. ‘‘ _Daddy_ loves Jensen! How much? _So much!_ More than the mountains, more than the streams, more than a little boy’s happiest dreams.’’

…And Jeff promptly tuned out.

Five, maybe ten, minutes must’ve ticked by when, before Jeff knew it, tiny, clammy hands began to pat against his forearm. Jeff lolled his head towards the expected source of irruption and, uncaring of how much he was beginning to loathe the gifted book, loved his son. He dropped a kiss atop Jensen’s head, feeling little fingers reach up to scratched lightly at his bristly chin.

‘‘Papa!’’ Jensen chirruped and… _Ah, crap_.

Jeff couldn’t not melt at that; he grinned like a fool and let himself bend under those wide, green eyes.

It was like that term of address, be it ‘Papa’ or ‘Daddy’, opened a whole new realm of language for both parent and Little One. There was a plethora of connotations and hidden meanings surrounding the word, all depending on how it was said or what expression accompanied the word. It just so happened Jared held a degree in translating the various definitions of those two, singular words.

‘‘That’s right, sweetpea. Last page is for Papa,’’ Jared cooed, stifling a snigger.

Jeff subtly tried to give his husband the middle finger by itching the side of his nose. Jared practically cackled while Jensen went on oblivious of the exchange happening over the top of his head. The kid only caught onto their brief communication when Jeff missed his cue in reading and proceeded to let out an impatient grumbling noise.

‘‘Alright, alright,’’ Jeff quickly consoled. ‘‘Who loves Jensen?’’ he barely looked at the printed words. ‘‘ _Papa_ loves Jensen! How much? _So much!_ More than the galaxy, more than the moon, more than the nightingale singing his tune...’’

The final words trail off, soft and light. Jeff finds that Jensen’s sunny smile is well worth having the rhyming words stuck in his head for the rest of the day. He returns the grin, half-tempted to offer to read the book again, when the receptionist calls out their name. Jared practically leaps up with Jensen, leaving Jeff to stuff the book into the diaper bag and traipse behind, heading in the direction of Dr. M.A Sheppard’s office.

The doctor in question is already there, his dark head of hair peering around the doorway of his office to look down the corridor towards them. Upon approach, Jeff resists the urge to give Mark the universal ‘you hurt our Sam, I’ll hurt your bones’ speech. He _likes_ Mark, he _trusts_ Mark and, besides, he’s still unclear about his surrogate-sister’s relationship with the dark-haired man. Still, Jeff narrows his eyes, suspicious…

Until his husband elbows him, hard. ‘‘Don’t even think about it,’’ Jared hisses, undoubtedly reading his mind.

Jeff can only nod while Jared waltzes off. Only then does he chuckle at the younger man’s boisterous greeting to Mark, knowing that, if his husband wasn’t holding Jensen, he would’ve lifted up the short male into a bear hug. Instead, Jeff watches the younger male playfully tease Mark by bending down in his posture to introduce Jensen; something Mark takes in his stride with amusing, British-lilted snark.

It’s kind of their thing, Jeff supposes.

According to Jared, the constant banter over Mark’s small stature had been born the moment he asked Jared, quite professionally, if: _‘‘you’ve clearly taken a Designer Modifier to get that ginormous, right?’’_. The doctor had been horrified that, no, Jeff’s towering husband was a 100% natural. Between the years of knowing Mark, the professionalism blurred and friendly banter took its place, often resulting with interesting comebacks to and an ever increasing list of nicknames such as –

‘‘Gigantor, stop cluttering up the corridor and get in here,’’ Mark huffs.

Jared’s pouting when Jeff promptly presses his hand to his husband’s lower back, ushering him forward into the room. Jensen, however, appears to be craning his neck like a Meerkat from Jared’s arms, his green eyes sweeping the area. Shutting the door behind him, Jeff tries to follow his son’s exploration of the quaintly decorated room when Mark distracts Jensen by lightly tickling the underside of the boy’s chin. Maybe it’s a confidence boost, but their usually shy baby boy is all smiles and ruddy cheeks under the short doctor’s attention.

‘‘Such a happy chappy,’’ Mark beamed.

‘‘Yes, he is,’’ Jared agrees with a coo, nuzzling Jensen’s face.

Jensen emits a giggly sort of squeal, burrowing his face into Jared’s neck.

Jeff exhales a laugh at the reaction and, after rummaging through the diaper bag for Honey, deposits the bag on the nearest chair. The plushie will be needed, Jeff has no doubt, especially if Jensen’s first, grumpy reaction of having Sam prod and poke him happens to be a hint of possibilities to come. A distraction in the form of his son’s favored toy would be a great when their little one got irritable with the examination and extended discussion between adults. Yet, for now, Jensen appears to be placidly perched on Jared’s lap from where his husband is atop the exam table, unfazed by Mark investigating the hurt fingers of his left hand.

‘‘ –ooks to be healing nicely,’’ Jeff catches part of what Mark is saying. ‘‘You said he hurt it on Thursday?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Jared murmurs.

Mark flexes the tiny, bruised fingers in his grasp, and Jensen wrinkles his nose. Jeff exhales a heavy, relieved sigh at the mild discomfort on his son’s face, grateful for the lack of tears. Then again, Jensen has been using the hand, albeit cautiously. It had been one of Jeff’s fears that Sam was wrong and he had broken one of those little bones. But no, he can hear the exchange between Jared and Mark, the second opinion of _‘‘no obvious damage and full use of fingers’’_ soothing the uneasy twinge of doubt in Jeff’s chest.

In fact, Jensen acts more wounded over the removal of the dinosaur band-aid than the mild pain of inspected fingers.

‘‘D-Daddy, Papa…’’ the boy emits a plaintive whine. It’s clear their little guy had obviously became attached to the colorful accessory.

‘‘Ah-ah, less of that,’’ Jeff admonishes lightly, proffering Honey. ‘‘Remember what Daddy said about what good babies get after doctor appointments?’’

‘‘Ice cream,’’ Jared answers, bouncing his knee.

Jensen latches onto the bunny and smacks his lips at the reminder of the promise. Fussing averted, Mark claps his hands to gather attention. ‘‘Then let’s get this show on the road then, ’’ the doctor begins. ‘‘Can’t have you stuck in here when there’s ice cream to be had, eh?’’

‘‘What’s the plan, Doc?’’ Jeff queries.

‘‘First things first, shirt off and listen to that ticker and lungs, then we’ll take it from there,’’ Mark explains, already grabbing the stethoscope off his desk. He catches Jensen’s eyes, adding, ‘‘what do you say to that, poppet?’’

Not impressed at the removal of clothes, Jensen pulls a face and hugs Honey close.

‘‘C’mon, fella. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about,’’ Jeff fluffs-up his son’s hair.

‘‘Arms up!’’ Jared cheers, expertly swooping the t-shirt up and over their baby boy’s head.

Despite grumbling and grizzling, Jensen allows himself to be manhandled and inspected from the safety of Jared’s lap. A few times, Jensen reaches out for him, and Jeff doesn’t wait to comply with giving his son attention while Mark does his work. They’ve barely started the physical exam, really, so it’s no surprise that when Mark wants to use his stethoscope on Jensen’s back, the doctor briefly falters.

Jeff doesn’t have to know what Mark has spotted because he recognizes the doctor’s response as being so similar to his own. It’s an expression of fleeting ‘huh, what’s that?’ that bleeds quickly into curiosity and anger. Mark is a professional, though, and, aside from his minor stalling and creased brow, doesn’t react further at the sight of pale, half-moon scars that randomly litter the backs of Jensen’s upper-arms.

The scars themselves are barely noticeable, unless in the right light. They are thin, curved and, from many nights of hushed discussion with his husband, must’ve been caused by fingernails, or something. Jeff didn’t know, and he had itched to ask Jensen of the origin back when Jared pointed them out when re-dressing Jensen’s unconscious form on that very first day of bringing him home...

Yet they – he and Jared – had shoved such questions of Jensen’s past aside upon attempting to make their boy comfortable. Still, even now, with Jensen coming out of his shell and embracing with being their baby, Jared was reluctant to push with asking about Jensen’s life before.

Soon, Jeff could only hope, Jensen will fill in the blanks about that certain area of his life.

* * *

‘‘…slightly smaller than most Modified Little One’s, yet I’m not surprised. Between you and I, places like Burbank don’t have the proper trained staff to administer Designer Modifiers as safely as doctors or nurses in the cosmetic industry. He’s a healthy little lad, though I’d recommend having him on a weight gain supplement an– ’’

Jensen had long stopped listening to Doc Mark’s chattering. Whatever is being said between the short British man and his daddies goes through one ear and out the other, barely sinking in. He’s had enough of this trip now. It doesn’t matter that Mark is nice, funny and calls him ‘poppet’ any more than how Daddy cuddles him close and Papa tries to distract him. No, what matters is the fact Jensen is fed-up of being told to _‘‘stand straight’’_ and, _‘‘say ‘ahh,’’_ amongst being inspected from head to toe.

He’s been jabbed and manhandled and had weird, cold or irritating equipment prod him. Jensen’s pretty sure he would’ve got crabby if Doc hadn’t shown him how some of the things would work, like the stethoscope. He got to listen to Papa’s heart until the item got plucked away by the doctor to show him something else. Even now, still sitting only in his diaper and shorts, Jensen’s been left with the weird looky-in-your-ear-thingy which he was currently using on Honey while the grown-ups carried on _talking and talking_ …

Only to _never_ _stop_ talking. At first, Jensen had listened to the trio from his spot by the giraffe height chart. It was only when Doc began asking a series of embarrassing questions – like, _‘‘how often does he poop?’’_ – did Jensen hastily stop listening. He might’ve been unable to control the blush taking over his cheeks, neck and upper chest, but he could control what he did and didn’t pay attention to.

So, it wasn’t a huge surprise to find himself a little lost when Jeff scooped him up, returning him to the exam table.

‘‘Final thing and we’re off for some much deserved ice cream,’’ Papa said.

Jensen sighed heavily behind his pacifier. About time. It felt like they had been here for _ages_ –

‘‘Which is the best way to…?’’ Jared was still talking to Mark, looking uneasy.

‘‘Any way that’s comfiest for him,’’ Mark replied. ‘‘Belly down on the table, or across your lap.’’

Brow creasing at the confusing conversation, Jensen didn’t have much time to figure out what he had missed when Doc gently extracted the looky-in-ear-thingy from his hand. That, and Papa passed him over to Daddy. The shaggy-haired man was still seated on the exam table and, instead of cuddling him in his lap like Jensen expected, set Jensen’s feet upon his muscled thighs. Naturally, Jensen wiggled his toes against the warm, worn denim beneath his bare feet as he found himself and Honey pressed against Daddy’s chest with his chin on the shoulder.

Huh. Jensen gave a slow, thoughtful suck on his binky. This position was strangely reminiscent to how his daddies would rub his back after bottles. Still, he squirmed, curious. He wanted to know what was going on behind him, especially when he could hear Mark shuffling about. Jensen attempted to turn around until Jared’s massive paw cupped the back of his head, keeping him with the boring view of white walls.

‘‘What ‘bout this?’’ he heard Daddy ask.

‘‘That’s fine,’’ Mark hummed. ‘‘Just get him ready, it’ll be over before the lad knows it.’’

Wait. Jensen blinked. Knows what?

‘‘You sure?’’ Jared sounded _nervous_. ‘‘Because I can totally – ’’

‘‘Babe, do you want me to hold him?’’ Papa’s confident-sounding rumble made Jensen not panick so much.

‘‘No, I – I got him. Can you just…?’’

Something silent passed between his parents, and Jensen hated the fact he couldn’t see their faces. Thankfully, whatever was said, or left unsaid, resulted in Papa appearing in Jensen’s line of vision. The bearded man offered a grin that didn’t completely reach his chocolate eyes as he distracted him by playfully thumbing his nose.

‘‘Hey, baby boy,’’ Jeff kissed his nose. ‘‘I’m thinking you’ll want sprinkles on your ice cream, what do y’say?’’

Jensen let out an appreciative noise. Sprinkles – he’d never had sprinkles before. The only ice cream he had in his life was vanilla, and that had been a rare treat in past foster homes. Most ‘treats’ had often been too dry cookies that tasted like drywall. Not that Jensen had tasted dry wall, but still.

‘‘Or hot fudge?’’ Jeff added. ‘‘Or – ’’ he waggled his eyebrows at him ‘‘ – sprinkles and hot fudge? And what about flavors, hmm? Katie’s place has got a whole lot of flavors.’’

‘‘Wha’ lotta f’avors?’’ Jensen piped up, excited.

‘‘Like banana caramel swirl, or cookie dough,’’ the older man spoke in an enthused gasp. ‘‘Or chocolate fudge, and mint choc-chip…’’

Mouth salivating from the possibility of choices, Jensen sucked harder on his pacifier in a bid to not drool on Jared’s shirt. He was so wrapped up in Jeff’s warm voice and eager listing of tasty treats that he barely noticed what Jared was up to with Mark. It was only when Jensen felt cool air ghosting around his thighs that he realized his shorts had been tugged down, the elasticated waist dangling by his ankles.

However, that was the least of Jensen’s troubles, especially when he heard the tell-tale rip of his diaper being undone. He jolted, startling in his daddy’s arms and attempting to squirm free. It was useless, though. Jared’s arm was like a band of steel across his back, keeping him pinned while the other, large hand slipped his diaper down until his bare bottom was exposed.

‘‘Gu-uh!’’ Jensen sputtered in horror around his pacifier.

‘‘Shhh, you’re okay, sweetpea,’’ Daddy cooed.

Calloused fingers that could only belong to Papa brushed against the side of his face. ‘‘Look at me, Jensey.’’

‘‘Hold still, poppet,’’ Doc Mark joined in, ‘‘this shot won’t be long.’’

 _Whoa!_ Wait, wait. Jensen was pretty sure he boggled at that. It was bad enough that he was, for all intents and purposes, mooning a stranger he had met fifteen-twenty minutes ago. But, getting a needle in his backside? _No, no, no_. That was a whole new level that sent goose bumps flaring over his bare arms and tummy.

Maybe it was the muddled, babyish mindset, or something else, but Jensen couldn’t handle the situation. He had been jabbed enough in the neck with sedatives from the workers at Burbank to not be squeamish about needles, yet this felt different. It was pain and betrayal and exposed humiliation all bundled up in one ugly mishmash that had Jensen’s eyes dampen and lower lip jut out so much that his binky fell from his lips.

Feeling like that, it was no wonder why he let out a shriek when the needle did make contact.

‘‘A-Aaaooooww!’’

‘‘Almost done, almost done,’’ Mark chanted, tone apologetic.

Papa was dropping whiskery kisses on his forehead while Daddy murmured an array of reassurances. Jensen wasn’t listening, though, not when the needle currently plunged into his left cheek, just above the curve of his buttock, _hurt_. The injection felt like it was going on forever; the needle feeling impossibly long and sharp from its place buried in his tender flesh.

‘‘There we go…All done!’’

Jensen ignored the chirpy, British accent and wriggled at the combination of his parents’ praise via kisses and touches. He sniffled, thoroughly not impressed, and managed to bat his traitorous Daddy and Papa away enough to free an arm to rub at his bottom. Being naked wasn’t such a huge deal right now, and he didn’t care that he ended up dropping Honey in favor of using two hands to ease out the sting.

‘‘Double scoop ice cream for our big, brave boy, I think,’’ Papa said and…okay, Jensen felt a little better now.

‘‘Ye-Yeah,’’ Daddy sounded _weird_.

‘‘Jay,’’ Papa whispered, ‘‘it was a shot. He’s fine, see?’’

‘‘Christ – I – urgh,’’ the younger of his parent duo fumbled with his words. ‘‘How can you be okay with this? I’m glad I wasn’t there when he hurt his fingers if m’like this…’’

‘‘Hush, you’re fine, babe.’’

Sniffling indignantly against Jared’s shirt, Jensen lifted his gaze up enough to glance at his parents. Papa looked like he wanted to laugh at Daddy, his lips twitching as he alternated between smoothing away Jensen’s tears and squeezing Daddy’s shoulder. As for the other, long-haired parent, well, Jensen understood why Daddy sounded weird upon spotting the teary, hazel eyes and apologetic expression. Daddy looked like he wanted to cry…

Which just ticked Jensen off.

Why was Daddy so sad? He wasn’t the one who got stabbed in the butt!

Jensen was quite ready to make to make his disgruntled thoughts known, until Jared cut him short. His daddy used one singular, massive paw to knock aside Jensen’s own small hands from the sore spot on his bottom. Instantly, Jensen whined. Yet, before he could squirm and scowl at this development, Jared emitted a soft, wounded noise and said:

‘‘Aw, baby. Here – let Daddy.’’

And the act that followed was both embarrassing and downright amazing. Jared’s hand was big, warm and soft – and perfect at rubbing the tingly-throb out of Jensen’s left buttock. It felt intimate, in a way, but no less than getting his diaper changed or bathed. Still, Jensen was pretty sure his face was as bright as a cherry when Daddy began to coo things like, _‘‘my poor Jensey’s ‘Lil tush’’_. In fact, aside from inner shame, he didn’t even care that Doc Mark and Papa were, undoubtedly, spectating the whole thing.

No, Jensen was busy wondering if his trauma earned him an extra scoop of ice cream.

* * *

‘‘Let the little guy have one more for the road.’’

‘‘Katie…’’ Jared sighed at a blonde-haired woman. She knew what she was doing, no matter how ‘cute’ she was being with her cajoling. The cheeky, shit-eating grin kind of gave her away. Besides, Jared had been a patron-turned-friend to Cassidy Creamery since it first opened under Katie’s Uncle’s ownership, way before she took over. He was immune to her attempts of gaining more business from him, though.

‘‘C’mon, Jay. Don’t be one of those mean parents.’’

‘‘I’m not being m – ’’ sticky, little hands assaulted his face, ‘‘ – mmmph!’’

‘‘Look!’’ Katie beams, ‘‘Jensen wants more.’’

‘‘Of course he does,’’ Jared mumbles against the fingers prodding at his lips.

Sliding his eyes to the culprit in question, Jared really tries not to grin. For all that Jensen happens to be a congealed mess of ice cream, his baby boy is cute. Still, that doesn’t mean Jared appreciates gummy fingers smearing ice cream, sprinkles, and spittle against his face and hair. Going to the doctor’s office wasn’t the only event he had planned today, and it was obvious he would be joining Jensen for a quick wash before company arrived.

Christ. How did he think going for ice cream was a good idea?

‘‘Daddy,’’ Jensen says, his little face far too serious. ‘‘Ow- _ch_.’’

Ah, crap. _That_ , Jared decided, was why ice cream was a good post-doctor visit activity.

Jensen had perked right up after getting his shot, and Jared didn’t feel too guilty upon his and Jeff’s decision over accepting Mark’s advice of giving their baby a precautionary injection against Burbank's overuse of Modifiers. After all, the slight pain in Jensen’s bottom was entirely forgotten when their Little was seated on Jeff’s lap and devouring a waffle cone: one scoop chocolate, one scoop peanut butter ‘n banana ice cream. Still, those two scoops had been accompanied by taste testing his daddies’ choices, be it Jared’s own sundae and Jeff’s cup of favored rum ‘n raisin…

Such taste testing had also been won over with a solemn-sounding ‘ouch’ then, too.

The floppy-haired man wouldn’t lie; he was starting to see a pattern in Jensen’s current behavior. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume his little one was playing him –

‘‘Ow-Ou _ch!_ ’’ Jensen repeated with a slight inflection.

The raised, affronted tone, complete with the gesture of tiny hands reaching back to touch the diaper-clad rump through his shorts, had Jared snorting. Yeah, Jared noted, he was totally being played. It was manipulative and adorable. He tried not to show his amusement, though, pretty sure his heart looked like the remains of ice cream on his son’s chin right now – melted and gooey. Call him an enabler, but Jared couldn’t help himself when replying to the boy in his arms.

‘‘Jensey’s still got ouchies?’’ he cooed with a sad, sympathetic face.

Shyly, Jensen nodded.

‘‘Oh, no,’’ Jared continued to play along. ‘‘What can Daddy do to make his sweetpea better?’’

A little finger jabbed in the direction of the glass counter Katie was leaning on. ‘‘Tha’!’’  
  
‘‘More ice cream? No, no. You’ve already had some and ice cream hasn’t worked, we’ll have to try something else, baby boy.’’

‘‘Aw, Jay, look at that pout,’’ Katie chimed in.

‘‘Hush, or you’re not invited to dinner,’’ Jared scolded his friend.

The female looked smug. ‘‘Yeah, right. You know Gen and I are roommates and best friends, right? She won’t bail on me.’’

‘‘Unless we tell her you upset Jensen, she’s rather taken with our Little One,’’ a familiar, low rumble came from behind.

Turning around in his nook between the counter and away from queuing customers, Jared greeted his husband with a kiss from the other's brief absence. The older man had slipped out to grab a few items from the local pharmacy, leaving the sticky mess known as their baby to him. Either way, Jared peeked into the small bag in Jeff’s hand in search for the suggested item Mark had mentioned to help Jensen gain a few extra pounds.

He spotted the lone item easily enough: a small tub of powdered protein and vitamins. It would only be added to their boy’s morning bottle for a couple of weeks for the desired outcome. After all, Jensen wasn’t the overly thin, half-starved little man they had brought home, frequent good food and constant carrying had given Jensen the barely-there hint of a tummy. But, thanks to Mark, Jared did understand that his baby needed the safety net of extra weight, should Jensen ever get sickly.

Maybe it was parental instinct or the simple fact of seeing their baby’s clothes fit, not hang, off that Modified form, but Jared had to admit he was rather looking forward to seeing Jensen somewhat pudgier. Still…

‘‘Papa!’’

Jared stopped his musings to spot Jensen, sticky and pouting, making grabby hands towards Jeff. He watched his husband beam from the use of the title and, inwardly, already had a feeling as to what was going to follow. Even Katie, with her barely concealed laugh, looked like she was on Jared’s wavelength when Jensen was dropped into Jeff’s arms and –

‘‘Ow- _ccch,_ ’’ Jensen persisted.

‘‘Er…’’ Jeff looked lost, not that Jared could blame him.

Undeterred by confusion, the little man gave a light bounce. ‘‘Ouch, ouch.’’

‘‘Ouch?’’ his husband’s brow was crinkled as he glanced to Jared for an answer.

‘‘Mhm, ‘ouch’,’’ Jared smirked. ‘‘I think Jensey has reached the conclusion that ouchies can be cured by extra ice cream.’’

‘‘Ah, I see,’’ Jeff’s face split into a grin before dissolving into something less amused. ‘‘Your shot still hurts, sunshine?’’ he crooned towards their son, earning a solemn, little nod in the process. ‘‘That won’t do, will it? That won’t do at all.’’

Index finger hooked in his mouth, Jensen slurred softly. ‘‘I’e creem?’’

‘‘Buddy, ice cream doesn’t make ouchies go away,’’ Jeff sympathized. ‘‘Daddy knows how to make it better, though,’’ a teasing gleam appeared in those dark eyes upon glancing towards Jared, ‘‘don’t you, babe?’’

It took a few seconds, but Jared caught onto the act. He had to bite the inside of his cheek when replying, ‘‘yeah, Papa’s right. Kisses, Jensey, they fix everythin’ better than ice cream.’’

Jensen wrinkled his nose at them both.

‘‘You sure you got ouchies, sweetpea? Or does Daddy have to kiss that ‘Lil bum-cheek of your’s better?’’ Jared carried on, teasing.

‘‘No, ouchies!’’ Jensen yelped, wide-eyed and physically reeling away from Jared in Jeff’s arms.

Much to the amusement of their surrounding company adults or passing witnesses getting served, Jensen turned a deep shade of scarlet. How Jared kept his face straight when puckering up for a playful kiss, he didn’t know. It was only the sight of his son’s astonished features combined with the sound of his husband’s deep, belly-laugh that had his mask of seriousness dissolving. In the end, Jared couldn’t help but join in the laughter, lift up the back of Jensen’s t-shirt to blow a raspberry on their baby’s lower-back, directly above the white ruffle of the diaper.

‘‘Daddy, no! Da-ahaha!’’ Jensen’s indigent yowl slipped into giggles.

Their baby was too precious, and Jared drowned in those happy little squeals, already knowing that he’d be buying Jensen the tub of brambleberry ice cream the boy had been previously been eyeing up for tonight's dessert.

* * *

The house is loud and buzzing way before dinnertime

Jensen’s not entirely sure what to make with this level of activity; home has always been relatively quiet and lax. Aside from Auntie Sam’s random visit with Chris and Steve, he’s used to having only his daddies around the place. It’s certainly a new experience and, by far, less stressful than the barbecue he had attended for the first time. After all, it isn’t like there are any other Modified babies to deal with.

No, this time, Jensen doesn’t have to deal with Danni’s curious prodding or Steve’s overly huggy-ways. This time (some point after a post ice cream rinse-off, big lunch and a long, long nap) he had found the house being invaded by a trio of familiar faces. Having Jim, Genevieve and, later, Katie show-up had him receiving an array of interactions that wasn’t as draining as it had been with fellow ‘little ones’.

That, and Jensen couldn’t help but feel a strange security at Jeff and Jared’s ‘grown-up’ only company, knowing he didn’t have to fight for his parents focus from other ‘Littles’, like Sandy. Either way, Jensen was rather content once everyone was seated and settled. In fact, he was so mellow that he ended up getting lost within himself during the grown-up’s constant, boring talk…

Which was pretty much how and why Jensen found himself wrapped up in his little-mindset of imagination and toys.

Yes, he far too preoccupied crawling across the room with his wooden train, the trio of attached carriages following suit. The small wheels clatter against the hardwood flooring as he swerves about, listening to the occupants in the carriages rattle. He’s had to stop a few times for them – the carved farm animals Jim made had a habit of toppling out the carriages Jensen had placed them in.

Inwardly, he pretends the piggies and lone cow are trying to escape when falling out. Jensen can’t help but garble around his binky and tell them off; he’s on a journey, and he needs to deliver the animals to the hungry Queen, Honey Bunny, and ruler of the plastic dinosaurs. First, though, Jensen’s got to get the train around couch-mountain and that, in itself, is dangerous work…

There’s a grumpy troll seated on a big rock near couch-mountain, and it likes to tickle the back of his neck and steal his animals. This time, Jensen manages to sneak past the troll unharmed and carries on his mission. Couch-mountain is harder to get past, though. There’s a big Papa-volcano and two witches on that mountain. The volcano rumbles loud and deep at whatever the troll says, leaving Jensen to pretend the ground is shaking as he scuttles past. As for the witches, they’re not so bad, but they always try and trick him into staying, especially the blonde-haired one.

He makes it past all three. Barely. The Papa-volcano was dangerous and the witches almost snagged him for cuddles. A giddy giggle leaves Jensen at his narrow, imaginative escape and, just when he thinks it’s safe: a wild Daddysaurus appears.

‘‘Here we go, baby boy. Drink up, dinner won’t be long.’’

 _Drink?_ Automatically, Jensen abandons his game and plops back onto his diapered bottom. He looked up at the bottle of apple juice in his Daddy’s hand and hums with appreciation. Yeah, a drink sounds good; he’s pretty thirsty now he thinks about it. He spits out his pacifier, letting it dangle from the strap clipped on his t-shirt as he extends his hands for the bottle. The stubby container is cool against his fingers, and Jensen wastes no time popping the nipple in his mouth and sucking down the crisp, sweet liquid...

‘‘Adventurin’is thirsty work, hm?’’ Jared chuckles at him, sweeping a hand over the top of his head.

Jensen smiles, unable to help the trickle of juice escaping his mouth.

‘‘Such a messy boy today, arnt you?’’ Daddy murmurs, sweeping a hand over the top of his head.  
  
It feels nice, good, and Jensen leans into the touch.

There’s a growing confidence, no matter how faint and small, building up inside him when it comes to Jared and Jeff. He…he loves these two guys and their quirky friends-turned-family. Whatever they’ve done or do is always good and nice. Day by day, Jensen’s pretty sure he can feel his trust strengthen and confidence brighten a little bit more each day. Anxiously, he squeaks his teeth against the bottle’s nipple, contemplating the option of truly opening up and spilling his guts to his new parents about his previous upbringing.

It would be cathartic, Jensen supposes, to let things out.

He knows Daddy and Papa are curious about his biological parents and the long, long list of foster homes. Sometimes, they talk about their worries and speculations when thinking Jensen’s asleep. He wants to tell them not to worry, that his life before – as lonely and homeless as it was – hadn’t been too bad. Some people had it worse, and it wasn’t like Jensen was a huge talker about things…

But, by God, he was tempted.

Letting Jeff and Jared know everything about him, even the ugly parts, would be cleansing. Jensen mulls this over as he hugs one arm around his Daddy’s leg, his teeth worrying away at his bottle. Idly, he looks up at Jared and knows, deep down, despite his insecurities, the man wouldn’t view him as a pathetic sissy in the same way Jeff, his Papa, wouldn’t be disappointed.

Rubbing his cheek against the worn denim of Jared’s calf, Jensen hums. Idly, he peeks over at the foursome of people his Daddy is standing in front of and talking to. The sight of the troll – um, no, _Jim_ sipping a beer in Papa’s recliner, talking to Papa while Genevieve and Katie are busy gushing over something with Daddy, makes him feel a fluttery warmth in his tummy.

He’s never met so many giving, nice people before and he adores the fact that these rare, genuinely affectionate people, from the gruff-looking softie known as Jim to kookily kind Misha, are a part of his world, too. Sure, Jensen’s still getting to know them all, but he can’t help but rejoice over the way things are going with him and his Daddies. He would, without a doubt, fully open up and let things go to the two men who had rescued him.

Soon, anyway. He just needed to figure out how to start such a serious conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, but let me promise you this: I don't abandon fics, so try not fret. Thanks for the huge support/patience, darlings. RL has been smacking me in the face. Lol.


	19. Chapter 19

‘‘ – and I got this is the trophy, see, Uncle Jay ‘n Jeff? See?’’

‘‘We sure can see it, kiddo. It’s got your name on and everything.’’

‘‘I know! S’cool, huh?’’

Jared’s grinning behind his palm in the buttery, early morning light infiltrating the kitchen as he watches the exchange between his husband and his biological nephew, Lucas, via skype. Jeff’s barely half-awake, his voice sleep-roughened and eyes squinted towards the laptop set upon the kitchen table. There’s something heartwarming at seeing the effort of conversation between his big brother’s seven-year-old son and Jeff, especially when the latter is still supping his first coffee of the day. Jared knows full well how his husband needs a shock to the system or, at the very least, two cups of coffee before communicating further than grunts.

Either way, Jared can’t help but pity the older man. Lucas is a true Padalecki with his dimpled smile, floppy brown hair and nonstop-talkative nature – so Jared steps back into the conversation. He purposely angles the laptop closer to himself, allowing Jeff to have a break and sag down in the kitchen chair, able to wake up fully and spectate without being seen on camera. Lucas doesn’t even blink at the change, merely goes with the flow, and zeros in on Jared’s proud expression by offering a wide, gap-toothed grin.

‘‘Daddy says if I keep it up, I can go to soccer camp during summer next year!’’ Lucas continues, never missing a beat.

Jared whistles through his teeth, impressed. ‘‘Best keep it up then, Luke. You’ll have to show me your skills sometime.’’

‘‘I wanna show Jensen, too!’’

‘‘Of course you can, squirt,’’ Jared says, smiling.

Lucas’ eyes widen. ‘‘Now?’’

‘‘No, not now,’’ he tells the boy, _again_. ‘‘I told you before that Jensey’s still sleepin’, didn’t I?’’

‘‘Aw, Uncle Jay, tha’ was _ages_ ago...’’ Lucas’ nose crinkles. ‘‘It still can’t be too early, even for babies. My friend from school has a real baby sister and he says she wakes him up super early in the mornin’s and nights.’’

Opting to ignore his nephew’s use of differentiating biological and Modified babies with labeling one as ‘real’, Jared decides to remind Lucas of why his new cousin is still asleep. ‘‘We’re two hours behind you San Antonians,’’ he explains. ‘‘You might’ve been up for the past thirty minutes eatin’ Lucky Charms and talkin’ to me with your momma, but it’s only half-six in the mornin’ here, buddy. ’’

‘‘Oh, yeah.’’ Lucas draws the words out, disappointed.

‘‘You can Skype with Jensen later, okay? Your daddy’s been showing you those pictures in the emails I sent him, right?’’

Nodding, Lucas beams. ‘‘Yup! Daddy printed some off, they’re on the corkboard thingy on the wall over there!’’

Hearing Jeff chuckle into his mug at their nephew’s comment, Jared subtly knocks his knee against the older man’s leg to shut him up. Lucas, however, doesn’t notice the interruption and continues to point somewhere off camera from his spot in his brother and sister-in-law’s kitchen. Still, as Jared listens to his adorable nephew ramble on and on about this and that, gesticulating with his small hands flying everywhere, he catches sight of a familiar figure stepping into the kitchen behind his nephew’s head.

It’s his big brother, Jeffery Ross Padalecki.

Or, if going by a longtime nickname, it’s JR…The eldest Padalecki hasn’t changed at all and he’s still the same, younger image of their late-father. Jared can vaguely hear his brother’s wife, Amanda, and brother exchange greetings in the background before JR finally ambles over to the breakfast bar Lucas is occupying.

‘‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t the newest daddy in the family,’’ JR jokes, offering a grin. ‘‘It’s ‘bout time I saw your ugly face, baby bro. Feels like ages since we last Skyped; I would’a been worried that parenthood had killed you if I wasn’t gettin’ emails from that hubby of yours…’’ Jared watches his older brother crowd closer to the webcam. ‘‘Where is Jeff, anyway?’’

Jared opens his mouth, finally able to get a word in edgeways, only to find himself cut short by his husband’s interjection.  
  
‘‘Right here,’’ Jeff grumbles, shuffling closer to Jared’s side to be visible on camera.

‘‘I’ve been showin’ ‘em my trophy, Daddy.’’ Lucas pipes up, squirming on his stool.

‘‘That so, sport?’’ JR ruffles Lucas’ mop of hair. ‘‘Well, it’s my turn to talk to your Uncles, so – ’’ he nudges the boy a little ‘‘ – off you go. Brandon’s mom is pickin’ you up in an hour, go get ready.’’

After being subjected to a series of ‘goodbye’s’ and promises to get Jensen on Skype, Lucas scrambles off. Jared feels a small pang at how much his little nephew keeps growing-up and, silently, rejoices in the fact he’ll never have this fear with Jensen. It was selfish, in a way, but the need of keeping a youngster around the house had always been the reason he and Jeff had wanted an Adult Baby in the first place –

‘‘They don’t look too shabby, do they?’’ Amanda’s voice can be heard from afar. ‘‘I know we looked like zombies for the few months when Lucas was born.’’

Cracking a grin, Jared feels a small flare of pride at the compliment.

At least, until JR adds. ‘‘Well, they’ve technically got a live-in babysitter, we didn’t have that.’’

And that, Jared notes, makes no sense. _Live-in babysitter? What…?_

Sharing a look with Jeff, he glances back at the laptop screen and JR’s cheeky grin. His big brother must see the confusion over the nonsensical comment (or failed joke, perhaps?) because the eldest Padalecki rolls his eyes at both Jeff and him. Only then, with a dramatized huff, did JR finally elaborate:

‘‘You know, that annoying girl who is staying with you? The family Surprise Baby? The one we call our baby sister?’’

Megan, that’s who JR is talking about. There’s only one female dubbed ‘surprise baby’ that Jared knows. It had been a long-running tease due to their sister’s unexpected conception and the large age gap between the Padalecki brothers and the lone female. Jared could recall easily recall the day his Momma and Dad had told him, at age thirteen, that they were expecting a baby. Back then, it had been weird. His parent’s weren’t exactly old, but they weren’t spring chickens either. Plus, JR had already moved out, making his own way in the world, and Jared had been at that awkward, early-teen stage in life. The last thing he had ever wanted was a baby in the house – right up until Meg was born, that is.

After that, Jared had always been particularly close to his little sister. At the time, Momma had called him ‘besotted’ and, in all honesty, he probably had been smitten with the tiny bundle his parents brought home. Without a doubt, Jared could admit that his need to nurture and pamper might’ve stemmed from his time with helping his parents with Meg, be it during her baby years or during his last year of high school when Dad had unexpectedly passed. It was only in the recent years, after Momma’s funeral and Meg’s decision to stay in Texas and live with JR’s family that Jared had drifted from his youngest sibling.

It wasn’t like he and Meg didn’t speak. They emailed, texted and, now and then, called each other. Yet, the last time Meg, the family ‘surprise baby’, had stayed with him and Jeff had been last Christmas. So, it was understandable, in a way, why Jared was confused over why his brother thought Meg was staying with him and Jeff…

‘‘-ay? Babe, Jay?’’ Jeff called to him, squeezing his knee.

Blinking, Jared was pretty sure he looked as sickly as he felt. He felt sweaty and panicky and angry. He was confused, too, ‘cause the recent emails he had from Meg spoke of life in Texas, not small town California. But, according to what JR was saying, Meg had been telling their big brother she was living and, from the sounds of things, been helping them out with Jensen. Which, of course, made no sense, yet these lies or, perhaps, miscommunication of sorts was the least of Jared’s worries.

After all, if Meg wasn’t with him or JR then… _where_ the hell was she?

* * *

‘‘You need to calm down.’’

Jeff winced the moment the words left his mouth, but it was too late. Jared all but whirled upon him, eyes narrowed and face furious and…yeah, okay. Telling your husband to calm down when he was panicking wasn’t the world’s smartest idea. Not really. Yet, Jeff couldn’t think of what else to say and Jared’s frantic pacing and angry, frustrated snarls about _‘‘selfish, manipulative bratty sisters’’_ was kind of distracting when you were trying to sort shit out.

Still, the situation wasn’t _that_ bad.

Not now they had located Megan’s location and strategized a part of a plan with JR. Through having the Padalecki brother’s call up Meg’s old friends for information and Facebook stalking (the girl needed to learn to turn off the automatic location tag of her photos if she wanted to do a disappearing act) it turned out the youngest Padalecki female was living it up in San Diego.

‘‘Pick up, pick up, pic – ’’ Jared’s chant cut-off into a snarled growl.

‘‘Voicemail?’’ Jeff found himself asking, _again_. Meg seemed incapable of answering her cell.

‘‘I swear to God, Jeff. If she’s gone and got herself hurt I’ll – ’’

‘‘She should be fine,’’ he interjected the younger man. ‘‘I think she forgot I use Facebook now and then, her last status was five hours ago so…’’

Jared exhaled explosively. ‘‘So she got home late and is sleepin’ off a hangover?’’

‘‘Probably,’’ Jeff admitted, torn between emotions.

Maybe it was another Padalecki-clan quirk Jeff didn’t understand, or simply over-protective sibling nature, he didn’t know. JR and Jared had exploded with worry, anger and overall hurt upon discovering Meg’s antics. Jeff, however, after the initial sick swoop of fear in his gut about the safety of his sister-in-law, a female who he viewed on the same level as his niece, Rosie, had felt both _confused_ and _angry._

Hell, Meg was hardly a kid; she was a young woman at the age of twenty-two. If she wanted to up and leave her home in her older sibling’s house in Texas, then so be it. Jeff just didn’t understand _why_ she left and decided to take this route. After all, it was the latter that made Jeff angry. Meg hadn’t just left home for some escapism to party with her friends, she had manipulated them all through frequent emails into thinking something else. According to JR and Mandy, Meg had left them a week after receiving his and Jared’s email about Jensen entering the family, stating she was going to spend the summer getting to know the new addition of their family.

As for what she told Jeff and Jared, well…

‘‘She acted so normal durin’ phone calls to me,’’ Jared murmured, panic ebbing. ‘‘Said…said the usual things like her boss was bein’ a pain, and she had taken Lucas to the zoo last week. Shit. Meg made it sound like she was still in Texas with JR when all this time – ’’ a groan leaves Jared’s mouth ‘‘ – _fuck_. She’s been on her own for almost as long as we’ve had Jensen. That’s like, like two months. I’m the worst – ’’

‘‘Hey,’’ Jeff doesn’t mean to bark at his husband, but he does. ‘‘Quit freaking out,’’ he says, softer, ‘‘stop blaming yourself and c’mere, babe.’’

‘‘Jeff, I need to –’’

‘‘Come here,’’ he cuts in, grabbing the floppy-haired male’s wrist.

Scooting further back in his chair, Jeff tugs Jared down onto his lap until the taller man is seated sideways across his thighs. The added weight of his husband on his lap feels good, grounding, and he wastes no time winding his arms around the toned, trim waist of the taller male. Jared all but sags at the impromptu enforcement of cuddles, tense shoulders slumping as the pair of them embrace a moment of comfort and silence.

After a moment, Jeff noses lazily at his husband’s jawline. ‘‘Better?’’

‘‘I guess so,’’ Jared turns his head, lips brushing against Jeff’s cheek.

‘‘Good. ‘Cause I’ve got to get ready to go.’’

Back going ramrod straight, Jared pulled back. ‘‘Go?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ he drawled, running a reassuring hand up and down his husband’s back. ‘‘I have to get moving if you want me to fetch and haul Meg back here before dinner tonight.’’

‘‘Ah, Jeff, no. I’ll go – ’’

‘‘And let you go alone?’’ Jeff ended up scoffing, offended. ‘‘No way. You’re in no state to drive downtown, let alone three hours to Chula fuckin’ Vista. Stay here with Jensey, ‘kay?’’

‘‘I need to _see_ her, make sure _my_ baby sister is okay,’’ Jared insisted.

Humming, Jeff gave in to the younger man’s stubborn and protective nature, especially when it came to family. It looked like they were both going out for a long drive and long day to collect a wayward Padalecki. There was just one key thing they needed to sort out first: what to do with Jensen?

* * *

                                                                                                                       

Being woken up by hands checking his diaper was a common occurrence for Jensen.

That didn’t necessarily mean that Jensen did, in fact, want to wake up. He was super comfy in the warm nest of blankets he had made through the night. Snuffling against the sheets, he burrowed further down and sucked on the soggy material that was, probably, Blue’s tail given Honey being lodged under his belly. The sensation of a hand cupping his bottom in an exploratory manner was easy to ignore, having long gotten used to dozing back off during his daddies’ diaper checks throughout the night or early mornings.

Still, there was something _off_ about the hand currently peeking into the back of his diaper. Jensen could only grunt, too sleepy to care, and offer a half-hearted kick of his leg in grumpy warning. Usually, Papa and Daddy understood that action; Daddy would kiss him awake with tickly touches and cooing, while Papa tended to scoop him up and into a big, big hug before the dreaded first diaper change of the day.

This time, however, one of his daddies weren’t getting the hint…

‘‘N- _Noh_ ,’’ Jensen grumbled, eyes scrunched shut.

He wasn’t ready for, what Daddy called, rise ‘n shine time. Nuh-uh. Jensen had been having a wonderfully real dream of seeing his Daddy and Papa hanging over his crib and listening to them say such nice things. Be it Papa’s comforting rumble about _‘‘not worrying ‘bout a thing, little man’’_ , or Daddy’s awesome promise of homemade chewy molasses-spice cookies. Sleepily, Jensen smacked his lips at the prospect of something to eat when Blue’s tail was nudged away and a familiar, rubbery shape brushed against his lower lip.

Instinctively, he latched onto the item with his eyes still closed. A small, soft hum of appreciation left him upon knowing it was his binky. Jensen must’ve lost it amongst the sheets, a common occurrence, throughout the night, and he wasted no time with sucking away. Lost in his own sleep-fuzzed ponderings, he barely paid attention to the voice talking to him, having long assumed the background noise was one, or both, of his parents. However, it was only upon being plucked out of his crib and set upon the changing table that woke up enough to discover how _wrong_ he was with his assumptions.

‘Cause the voice currently chatting away was too high in pitch to be Daddy or Papa.

‘‘ – eepy little boy today, aren’t you, muffin?’’

Jensen felt his eyes pop open at the light, feminine tone.

He recognized Genevieve the moment he looked up at her, even if she did look a little different with her hair swept back. She was smiling down at him, though, and Jensen would’ve loved to return such an expression if he wasn’t feeling so disorientated. After all, it was hardly normal to be woken up by someone other than his parents.

‘‘Hey,’’ she cooed, ‘‘about time you opened those eyes.’’

Brow furrowing, Jensen attempted to sit up, wondering were Jeff or Jared was at – only to fail. Gen kind of prodded him back down until he was flat on his back. She patted his thigh ( his _bare_ thigh) and he tried to squirm away, not really happy at being caught in only a diaper and a short-sleeved shirt.

‘‘Settle down, wriggly worm,’’ Genevieve carried on, idly rubbing his stomach. ‘‘Your Daddy and Papa had to go take care of something important, so it’s just going to be you and me for a little while ‘til they come back, okay?’’

No, Jensen wanted to shout. No it wasn’t ‘okay’.

Instead, he had discovered his throat had closed up. Shouting wasn’t on the agenda, but panic sure was. Jensen was barely aware of spitting out his soother, let alone the stuttering exhale that was leaving his mouth. All he could focus on was three, little words Gen had said: _Had. To. Go._

 _Go_ , as in, _go away_ from _him_. They had just upped and left him, just like they had promised not to do. Sure, maybe ‘something important’ equaled an emergency, and Daddy did say, in passing, that would be the only reason to leave him behind. But, _still_ …

Jensen let out a sob.

‘‘Oh no, baby, don’t cry,’’ Gen began to sooth, her soft hands stroking his fallen tears away.

Batting her hands away, Jensen managed to produce a sound of protest. Emergency or not, he didn’t like this. Hell, he wasn’t even listening to Genevieve anymore. She was trying to explain, mentioning something about Daddy’s sister, Meg, and other, little things alongside the repeated use of calling him ‘muffin’. Jensen sniffled, tempted to kick out at her: he wasn’t a muffin, he was Papa’s _sunshine_ and Daddy’s _sweetpea_.

Either way, the young woman obviously wasn’t getting with the program. From the few instances Jensen had previously been with Gen, she came across as an intelligent, sweet adult. At the dinner party days prior she and Katie had been super nice with sneaking him extra ice cream. Now, however, she appeared to be struck with dumbness or, more likely, happened to be ignoring his obvious upset over the situation as –

She promptly ripped open one of the tabs of his diaper.

Choking in horror, Jensen gave into temptation and did kick out. Genevieve remained undeterred by his actions, her hands easily knocking his legs aside to peel open the other tab. She effectively caught him by his ankles, stopping his further efforts and bringing home how tiny and weak he really was in one singular act. It was sometimes easy to forget with Papa and Daddy; for all the two men were huge, hulking giants they were always letting Jensen jokingly push them down when sitting on the floor or in the big bed.

A fresh wave of tears began to brew in Jensen’s eyes, a sense of helpless vulnerability filling him up at being so easily manhandled by Gen. Having his diaper changed, his bottom and junk wiped clean, by someone other than his daddies just felt too intimate, too scary. Jensen could only ball his clammy fists up and press them into his eyes, a mortified squall escaping him.

‘‘Sh-shh-shhh, muffin. I know today hasn’t a good start, but it’ll get better…’’

* * *

The day really, really didn’t get better.

Genevieve hadn’t been that annoyed when her younger boss, Jeff, woke her up during her day off. The older man had sounded so desperate, and it wasn’t like the prospect of babysitting his and Jared’s baby was any hardship. She had babysat Modified Littles before and, had she not been happy with her job at the Beaver-Morgan Warehouse, probably would’ve went into working at a local daycare.

Besides, Jensen was a sweet little thing…Well, usually he was.

The Modified male Genevieve was currently facing was nothing like the smiley, shy little boy she had interacted with previously. After the initial bout of tears over the unexpected turn of events and absence of his daddies, she had expected Jensen to brighten up. But, no. Any joy Gen had felt towards the prospect of a fun day chilling out with Jensen was crushed some point between giving him a morning bath and feeding him breakfast.

Jensen just hadn’t wanted to know; he had been too busy crying himself hoarse, attempting to escape the tub or knocking his bowl of cereal over the side of the highchair. It was madness, plain and simple. But Gen didn’t get mad at his antics, no matter how frustrating – how _could_ she, anyway? Those mossy-green eyes were made to liquefy hearts and shatter stern resolves.

Plus, Genevieve told herself, it wasn’t like Jensen was being bad or bratty.

She had babysat Sandy and Danneel once, and that had been _bad_. Genevieve had earned a migraine barely thirty minutes into tending to Sandy’s demands, and how Mike and Tom’s red-haired hellion managed to cut up the curtains with a pair of kid-friendly, plastic craft scissors she’d never know. So, if Jensen wanted to reject breakfast and Gen’s attempts of care and comfort in favor of toddling around the house with a cloud of despair atop his head? Then, so be it.

All she had to do was quietly follow him around and make sure he didn’t hurt himself. However, that was easier said than done. Genevieve had to bite her lip and busy her hands with texting Katie in a bid to stop herself from intervening. She kept finding her arms jerking with the need to go pick Jensen up and hold him close, even if he didn’t want to be held. It felt wrong to just leave him like this, regardless of Katie’s advice to let Jensen ‘wear himself out’, especially when Jensen looked so…so…

Downhearted and pathetic.

‘‘P _a_ - _a_ h-Papa!’’

Jensen’s croaky wail bounced off the walls, and Gen winced. The crying and occasional bursts of temper had long stopped and, in its pace, was something far, far worse. It was difficult to describe, but it was almost as if the boy didn’t understand that his parents were, truly, going to come back home. Watching Jensen wander from room-to-room, sniffling and clutching his toy bunny and what appeared to be one of Jared’s, garish pink shirts from the laundry hamper was painful to witness. She’d take tears and tantrums any day as opposed to Jensen’s sorrowful mutterings and doleful aura.

The Little One still had his unused bib on from breakfast, clad in the clothes Gen had dressed him in. She had thought the pull-on, elasticated blue-plaid shorts and white, short-sleeved onesie with nautical designs stating, ‘Daddy’s First Mate’ had been an adorable combo. But, that had been before she realized how dangerous it was to have cuteness mingled with pitiful heartbreak:  
  
Jensen was a tottering weapon, unknowingly causing anyone in a 10 mile radius to implode with the need to cuddle-kiss-spoil _-anything_ to make him better…

‘‘Daddy,’’ Jensen whined to no one in particular. ‘‘Dah-dee, Daddy, h-home?’’

Sighing, Genevieve fought the urge to offer ice cream for breakfast (Jared wouldn’t be pleased) and crouched down beside Jensen. The boy was showing no signs of moving from his standing location: slumped forward against the long, narrow panel of glass that flanked both sides of the front door. It seemed Katie had been right and Jensen had worn himself out, clearly finished with his mournful inspection of the house and minor spree of opening all reachable wardrobes or doors.

Rubbing a hand over the short, downy locks of Jensen’s hair, Gen opted to try again. ‘‘Daddy and Papa will be back before you know it, muffin.’’

‘‘Unn.’’ The muffled, incomprehensible noise was followed by a lone, glassy green eye peeking at her over the mound of pink material in his arms.

‘‘I know,’’ Gen crooned, pretending to understand.

Jensen griped something in response, arms tightening around his plushie and Jared’s shirt.

‘‘Mhm,’’ she hummed sympathetically. ‘‘Don’t get so worked up, baby. I bet Jensen’s hungry after all that and no breakfast. What d’you say we give breakfast another go, hm? Is Jensen hungry?’’

With a loud, wet sniff Jensen dropped down on his padded bottom. ‘‘Yuh,’’ a wobbly little nod followed, ‘‘J-Juh’sen ‘ungry.’’

Feeling relieved at the progress, Genevieve hastily took advantage of a pliant, worn-out Jensen by scooping him into her arms. He squirmed a little in her hold, getting comfy with Jared’s shirt and Honey squashed between them. She decided to stay sitting for a few moments, holding him close and rubbing his small back until he settled. It was only then, with Jensen’s timid, lightly bruised fingers reaching up to twiddle with the fallen strands of her tied back hair, that Gen got to her feet.

* * *

‘‘No, no, don’t worry. We’ve had a few hiccups, but nothing bad. He’s not very interested in eating, though. Breakfast kinda failed for the second time, but I got him to have his bottle – ’’

Jensen remained flat on the floor, belly down as Gen’s voice washed over him. She had gotten up from their spot in the living room when the phone rang, her constant coaxing of getting him to draw with crayons coming to a halt. Keeping one arm curled around Honey and Daddy’s shirt, he used his unoccupied hand to mindlessly run the thick, black crayon across the plain, white paper that had been placed in front of him.

Dejected and grumpy, he sucked on his pacifier; the day so far had been an ordeal. It didn’t matter what Gen said about his daddies coming home, not when Jensen felt dubious at best. The swirl of doubt and uneasy, ever present prickle of upset continued to fluctuate as time without Jeff and Jared ticked by. Yet, the absence of his parents weren’t the only issue at hand – it was the key problem, sure, but the muddled routine wasn’t helping matters either.

Genevieve did everything _wrong_. Be it the weird act of bathing and dressing before breakfast, to the breakfast itself, it all was _wrong_. Bubbly baths were before bedtime, not morning. Bottles always came first before the solid part of breakfast and, even then, breakfast was usually something mouthwatering (pancakes, bacon, omelets!), not multigrain cereal and chopped bananas. Maybe Jensen had been spoiled by Daddy’s good cooking, but he had been thoroughly angry at the innocent, little bowl of boring breakfast.

Pushing it off his tray had made him feel good, though. Almost as good as he felt right now with wearing down the crayon via his scribbling that –

Huh.

Jensen’s eyes widened at the swirls and jagged back marks that made up the dark outlines of two, familiar faces. Well, it sort of did, if he added a few things and colored in the spaces. He scrambling up on his knees, palms suddenly sweaty as he dropped the black crayon to get a fumbling gasp on the peach colored crayon. It was the closest thing to skin color, Jensen decided, his fisted hold upon the crayon quickly flying across the paper and filling in a handful of misshapen outlines that made up two faces.

He _knew_ it! Now Jensen had begun, the colored squiggles did look an awful lot like his Daddy and Papa’s faces. Sure, they both looked malformed, and Papa’s beard dominated most of his face and Daddy’s right ‘ear’ was ridiculously big, but he had been right. He just had to – uh, tidy them up a little, like give Daddy a scribble of brown hair and doodle on their eyes and smiles…

‘‘You two got there okay?’’ the overheard snippet of Gen’s voice made Jensen’s coloring falter. Who ‘two’ got _where_?

‘‘Well, that’s good – mhm, yeah,’’ the woman carried on chatting, head nodding away. ‘‘At least you know she’s been staying with friends and not out on the streets, Jay. I can’t imagine how – ’’

 _Jay_. Jensen knew that nickname. Jay for Jared. Jared for _Daddy._

Getting to his feet, and narrowly slipping over his strewn crayons, Jensen produced a desperate noise behind his pacifier. His flurry of movement and ruckus certainly gained Genevieve’s attention; she gave a light jump in surprise, her attention no longer to the person – Daddy – she was talking too. Instead, the young woman looked stunned, albeit amused, at finding her leg tackled by him.

‘‘Oh, hello there,’’ Gen laughed down at him.

And whatever she was laughing at wasn’t funny. No, no. Laughter wasn’t allowed when Jensen had been yearning for Papa and Daddy while Gen, the phone-hog, had been talking to them the whole time he’d been drawing. He let out a huffy, impatient sound as he stretched up as far as he could, practically attempting to climb Gen’s leg to get the phone. She kept on grinning at him as she continued to talk on the phone to _his_ parent.

‘‘Muh-mine!’’ Jensen said, uncaring of his possessive tone. ‘‘Jensen want!’’

The dark-haired female beamed. ‘‘Jensen wants the phone? Okay, hold on, muffin, just – ’’ she paused with talking in favor of listening to whatever Daddy was saying ‘‘– Yeah, Jay, that’s your boy. He’s been drained after grizzling about the house with that sweaty shirt of yours. I thought he was going to doze off when you called…looks like I was wrong.’’

Stop talking, Jensen inwardly whined as he tugged on Gen’s jeans.

‘‘Okay, okay. Jay – ’’

‘‘P’ease,’’ Jensen found himself begging around his pacifier. Why was she taking so long? _Why – ?_

‘‘Listen, Jay, I’m goin’ to hand you over. Jensen looks like he’s going to cry.’’Heart-stuttering, Jensen bounced on the spot, his arms extended. Genevieve, true to her word, carefully handed the phone over, helping him cradle it in his hands. He smooshed his ear against the phone, wishing that he could get sucked down the device and spat out on the other end where his Daddy and Papa happened to be. Jensen would give anything for a cuddle from them –

_‘‘Did I hear my baby boy using his manners?’’_

Breath catching, Jensen felt tears of relief well up in his eyes. ‘‘D-Daddy!’’

 _‘‘Heya, sweetpea.’’_ He could feel practically _feel_ Daddy’s grin through the phone.

‘‘Come ‘ome now?’’ the phrase left Jensen in a whoosh. Gen had said ‘soon’ and soon had long passed.

 _‘‘Papa and Daddy’ll be home in…’’_ Jared trailed off, muttering something to someone else, and Jensen strained his ears to pick up the faint sound of Papa’s distant, rumbly tone. _‘‘A while,’’_ Daddy carried on, ‘‘ _We’ll be home in a while.’’_

That wasn’t a proper answer. It was vague, almost as much as ‘soon’ was. ‘A while’ could mean anything from after naptime to…never. Jensen puffed his cheeks out, frustrated, and pretended to ignore Gen tousling his hair.

_‘‘Should be home before dinnertime, I promise. If all goes well, sweetheart, we’ll be starting to drive back in the hour. We just need to – hm, sort some things out here first.’’_

The tight knot in his chest loosened at that. Sorta. Dinnertime was so far away, though. Jensen hadn’t even had lunch or naptime, yet. Besides, Jensen would prefer to keep talking to the floppy-haired man until he spotted his parents’ rolling into the driveway, safe and home for good. Never leaving him ever, ever again.

But, no. Daddy seemed to be trying to ease the conversation to a stop. _‘‘You keep being a good, little doodlebug, Jensey. Draw Daddy and Papa more pictures, yeah?’’_

‘‘Ye-eah.’’ He knew he sounded sullen, but he didn’t care.

_‘‘That’s my baby boy. You’re such a good boy for us, aren’t you? Papa and Daddy are so proud. ’’_

Jensen felt both happy and sad at the praise. Daddy was getting ready to say goodbye. He fought against the tremble growing in his chin and hooked a finger into the ring of his pacifier, pulling his binky out just so.

‘‘Want Papa,’’ he asked, thinking the older male wouldn’t say bye, too. ‘‘Please,’’ he added, hoping to sweeten the deal.

_‘‘Aw, sweetpea, Papa’s driving – ’’_

Emitting a wounded noise, Jensen bit down on the silicone nipple.

 _‘‘ – okay, okay,’’_ Daddy rushed, changing his answer. _‘‘Let Daddy put you on speaker phone annnnnd – done. Say ‘Hi’ to Papa, baby boy.’’_

He opted for a more blunt approach. ‘‘Papa, home now?’’

 _‘‘Ah, crap. You’re breaking my heart, fella.’’_ Papa sounded pained and, like Daddy’s voice now, appeared distantly tinny.

Jared cleared his throat, speaking up. _‘‘Jensen, we’ll be home soon, not now. Soon.’’_

Soon wasn’t good enough. Jensen’s brain was muddled between rational, adult thoughts and childish insecurity that left him abandoned in a limbo of incomprehension about his daddies’ possible return. All he could do was give in to emotion; let his eyes fill up and lower lip jut out enough to push his soother out entirely as a whimper escaped him.

The reaction he gained from his parents’ was immediate. Jeff let out a startled, _‘‘Jensen? Oh, sunshine…’’_ that clashed alongside Jared’s response of, _‘‘Don’t cry, Jensey, it’s okay – !’’_. It was Gen, though, who made it impossible for Jensen to listen to his daddies any further. She swiftly stole the phone back to speak to the grown-ups, easily taking it way out of Jensen’s reach, effectively making his cries increase in volume.

He barely heard what was being said over his weeping, but he didn’t need to hear Genevieve saying ‘bye’ to his daddies when he saw her end the call.

‘‘I think your daddy was right, muffin. It really is time for somebody’s nap.’’

Indignant, Jensen might’ve howled out an impressive, _‘‘no!’’_ at her before storming off.

* * *

Naptime, Jensen came to discover, was enforced.

Running away had been futile; he barely got three steps away when Genevieve snagged the back of his clothing and scooped him up. Jensen didn’t go down without a fight, though. He protested and flailed – not that it really mattered, Gen had been determined to get him to sleep despite his upset. She had done everything from holding him close, proffering bottles of juice, to keeping him on her lap for a long stint in the rocking chair.

It might’ve worked had she not attempted to put him down in his crib. Naps _did not_ take place in his crib. Jensen would nap on Mr. Bear’s giant belly, or one of his daddies’ chests, or on a comfy blanket set upon the floor. Not the crib. Being set down for a nap in his crib had been another thing wrong with his usual routine of the day, and it had set his temperamental mood off again. In the end, Genevieve had skulked in the hallway outside of his nursery, keeping an eye on him, undoubtedly hoping that he would cry himself to sleep…

Which, obviously, did not happen.

No, through sheer will and body-jolting hiccups, Jensen had managed to stay awake through his designated naptime and extra. Due to this, it was no wonder why he was drained and tetchy. It was also why, some point after a fussy rejection of lunch, he had taken to sulking on the threshold of the utility room, wrapped up in Daddy’s garish pink shirt with Honey from his spot –

‘‘ – in the laundry hamper, Katie,’’ Gen continued whispering on her cell phone. ‘‘The little guy hasn’t budged for most of the afternoon, he’s like – like _burrowed_ himself down below all the clothes.’’

Jensen grumbled softly to himself, sinking further down against the array of clothing. Like Daddy’s pink shirt he had swiped previously, the yet-to-be-washed clothing smelled musky with sweat, yet that didn’t bother him. He felt a little better curled up in the array of items that contained the familial scents of his parents. Besides, despite Gen’s comment, it didn’t feel like he had been in the laundry hamper for long.

Keeping track of time was hard when you felt lost and numb. Still, he wriggled enough in the wide wicker basket until he found a spot in the woven wood to peek through. Gen’s legs were visible and, from what he could see, she was still pacing about the kitchen, talking to Katie. Between having her prod him and try and coax him out, Jensen had taken to watching her as she cooked and cleaned and, now, chatted on the phone.

‘‘Of course I’ve checked he’s breathing!’’ Genevieve sounded huffy. ‘‘Yeah, laugh it up. I know _you_ wouldn’t be laughing if you had to sift through Jeff and Jay’s dirty underwear.’’ Jensen watched her feet shuffle across the tile. ‘‘Uh-huh…yeah, yeah.’’ She let out a laugh at whatever was said. ‘‘Hey! Just ‘cause I like looking after Little Ones doesn’t mean I want any of my own. I assure you, handin’ back a baby after a day of frustration and cuteness is the _best_ feeling in the world…’’

Rubbing his heavy, tired eyes, he tuned out the boring, grown-up chatter. He began to drift, tiredness catching up with him – until Gen’s voice filtered through.

‘‘Gotta go, I think I can hear them at the door – ’’

Jensen didn’t have to listen further or put two and two together to figure out what that meant. There were only two people who should be at the front door: Jeff and Jared. Jensen all but _spilled_ out of the laundry basket and scuttled into the kitchen on his hands as knees. The sudden flurry of activity startled Genevieve in the process, making her boggle at the peculiar sight he made with attempting to get to his feet despite being hindered by a too-large sock caught on his toe and a massive shirt flung over his shoulders.

Daddy’s shirt and Papa’s lone sock be damned, Jensen remained undeterred in his wibbly-wobbly run through the kitchen and into the living room. The scratch of a key entering the front door’s lock was just as audible as the achingly familiar and deep voices on the other side of the door. He could feel a gleeful squeal bubble up in his chest, his feet skidding across the hardwood as he came to a halt at the threshold of the hallway, ready to greet his daddies –

Until the front door swung open with far more force than necessary.

If the loud noise of the door banging didn’t make Jensen flinch, the sound of raised voices certainly did. On instinct, he pressed himself against the wall and stared, wide-eyed, at the unexpected sight of a tall brunette that was, in no way, his Daddy. For starters, the stranger was obviously female and younger. Had it not been for seeing Jared’s towering form behind the young woman, Jensen would’ve crumpled to the floor at the nanosecond of stomach-dropping disappointment.

But no, that was Daddy currently on the young woman’s heels and bellowing, ‘‘…don’t start this again, Meg!’’

Jensen felt his spine shiver at the volume and anger of his daddy’s voice. He knew Jared was _loud_ , but it seemed so, so different when the tone was laced with anger as opposed to goofy boisterousness. His daddy didn’t act this way – at least, as far as Jensen was concerned, he didn’t. He’d seen the older man be ecstatic, weepy and overbearing, but never angry, never like _this_.

‘Cause Jared’s face was red and his nostrils were flaring as the woman – Meg – began to shout back.

He didn’t know what they were saying; the unravelling argument was snappy and too quick to follow. It was scary, too, and whatever relieved joy Jensen previously harbored was withered away via apprehension. Jensen could only freeze on the spot, only vaguely aware of seeing Jeff step into the house, face worn and jaw tense while lugging in two, overly large suitcases. Yet Jensen didn’t have time to focus on the cold, trickle of dread at what those suitcases could mean when Meg and Jared’s commotion reached new heights.

Oddly enough, Meg and Jared appeared identical during such a moment. The pair of them didn’t just look similar with the way their brown hair flew into their narrowed eyes, but they acted alike. Jared kept swiping at his face, hissing out frustrated exhales while Meg snarled and frequently combed her fringe back from her face with her fingers. It wasn’t just that, though. Motioning with their hands and pawing at their head/face aside, it was the shared trait of how _thick_ their Texan accents came through that had Jensen’s chest constrict.

Jensen had long identified the light twang in his Jared’s voice, but this time was different. There was a true, southern timbre present in that furious, loud voice and, above all, it was accompanied by an equal tone, albeit feminine. Hearing the eerily familiar accent produced by a man and woman raging at each other sounded, in Jensen’s mind, too much like Donna and Alan Ackles.

It was like being transported back in time upon hearing such a familiar din; like he was all of five-years-old, wedged in the truck’s backseat with Josh’s bony elbow lodged in his side as Donna and Alan’s latest shouting match turning the cloyingly hot air even more unbearable to breath in. Even now, despite being in the cool air of his home with Jeff and Jared, Jensen’s chest began to feel too tight. Scared, nervous, lost – it would’ve been an understatement if he admitted that both memory and current situation made his heart stutter and body freeze-up.

If anything, Jensen found himself subjected to an intense pain all over, like something was squeezing him into a tiny ball, making him feel clammy, tingly-dizzy and sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You lot are total darlin's and, as always, thanks<3


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life was already kicking my ass, but then it spat in my eye. Here is your HUGELY deserved update. You guys are remarkable, thank you, and new updates shall roll on at a faster pace now things are wee bit better. (:

Jeff barely suppressed a groan as he dumped his sister-in-law’s suitcases in the hallway.

With a stiff back and numb ass, he rubbed at his sweaty brow and listened to the continued sound of World War III unfolding. Jeff had foolishly assumed the shouting match between Jared and Megan had dwindled to an end during the three hour drive from Chula Vista. But no, _obviously_ , the initial meeting and lengthy drive back to Bloomingfield hadn’t been enough time for the Padalecki siblings to hash things out.

Grunting, Jeff planned to leave the pair be. Jared might’ve been a total softie who’d never raise a hand, but that didn’t mean he was no less intimidating. When angry or upset his husband tended to produce one helluva racket: all noise and long-winded rants. It also happened to be a trait that Megan shared, and Jeff couldn’t continue to listen to the re-hashed arguments between the pair any longer.  
  
For the sake of his sanity he opted to leave the Padalecki siblings be; they’d run out of steam soon enough. Besides, there was an ice-cold beer in the fridge with Jeff’s name on it. Yet, as much as he envisioned the refreshment of a chilly, alcoholic delight of a well-earned beer, he put it on hold. Firstly, Jeff opted to do something far, far better and greet his little ray of sunshine, Jensen.

His and Jared's baby boy seemed to be absent, though. Instead, it's Genevieve who happens to be in Jeff’s direct line of sight; she's visible through the doorway leading into the living room and offering him a small smile that looks more like a grimace. Jeff can’t help but huff out a chuckle, mildly amused at the surprise in Gen’s features upon witnessing the unexpected mayhem of a Padalecki verbal explosion.

With one foot past the living room's threshold, Jeff's ready to usher Gen into the kitchen and search out his son when a soft noise garners his attention. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who could’ve possibly made such a fragile sound, but it does make Jeff frown. He’s already peering down and turning his body just so to discover the correctly assumed noise-maker, Jensen. The sight of the Little One has him quirking an eyebrow in baffled amusement: he had half-expected to be greeted by shy smiles and grabby cuddles, not… _this._

This being Jensen’s lack of reaction.

Aside from that little whimper, the kid isn’t really moving or looking. Swamped in what looks like one of Jared’s shirts, Jensen remains unmoving and pressed against the wall by the doorway. For all intents and purposes Jeff can only assume a certain Modified adult baby is giving him the cold shoulder. Holding back the urge to scoff, Jeff can only sink down onto his haunches and coax the little guy out.

‘‘Hey, you hiding from Papa and Daddy?’’ he sing-songs, playfully wiggling a finger between Jensen’s hunched, upraised shoulder and smooth cheek. ‘‘What’s all this sulking for, sweethea– ?’’

The question trails off the moment the calloused pad of his index finger meets warm, watery dampness.

Instantly, Jeff knows without seeing that he has encountered the tell-tale stream of tears. Whatever playful teasing he had planned to elicit smiles from Jensen evaporate just as quickly as his mislead assumption about the little guy sulking. He inwardly berates himself over not noticing something was amiss while managing to peel Jensen from the wall, attempting to see the little man’s face.

A heavy, cold weight settles in Jeff’s stomach at the sight which greets him. Jensen’s cute, freckled face isn’t meant to look so ashen or fearful. He’s used to seeing younger male’s countenance – almost cherubic via his recent, slow gain of weight – tinged a healthy pink from shyness and good living. Yet there is no rosy-cheeked smiles right now. No, Jensen’s currently reminiscent to the state Jeff had discovered him post-nightmare during Jared’s absence…

Except, maybe, worse.

‘Cause his and Jared’s Little One is trembling like a newborn lamb and sucking in air far too quickly for comfort. Jeff’s gut rolls at the sight, and he doesn’t think twice about tugging Jensen into his lap. He’s in the middle of steadying Jensen’s wavering body upon his thigh when Gen approaches with a furrowed brow. She was probably going to ask Jeff questions he didn’t know the answer too – like, why Jensen’s having trouble breathing? Or, what brought this on? – yet, whatever Genevieve is about to ask is cut-off when Megan’s shouting reaches new heights.

The increased volume has Jensen _jolting_ in his lap. Jeff finds himself subjected to the terrifying way his son’s breathing stutters to a halt. For the several beats, he actually thinks Jensen’s incapable of breathing, until the kid suddenly bursts back into action, continuing the series of erratic inhales and exhales. The relief that floods Jeff is short-lived though, as his employee takes the moment to speak up.

‘‘Oh my god, ’’ Gen’s voice is barely audible over the dull roar in the background. ‘‘Is he having an asthma attack? Do I –?’’

‘‘No, no,’’ is all Jeff is able to get out, at first. Jensen’s not asthmatic, but the way he is struggling to breathe certainly looks like he is. If Jeff didn’t know any better, he’d think Jensen was having a… _Oh_. ‘‘It’s a panic attack,’’ he says, more to himself, ‘‘I think.’’

A panic attack to the ruckus booming in the hallway, Jeff assumes.

It’s the only thing that makes sense despite not understanding the underlying reasons of _why_ Jensen is reacting this way. Still, Jeff can hardly ask the boy right now. Instead, he focuses on removing his and Jared’s little one from the possible source, silently hoping it would help. But, first…

‘‘Knock their heads together before I do,’’ Jeff grits out, inclining his head back towards the oblivious Padalecki’s. He doesn’t wait for Gen’s response, trusting the young woman to do something as he swiftly heads towards the living room’s sliding doors.

The backyard is a quieter, calmer spot to sooth Jensen. Stepping out into the warm breeze and slamming the door behind him certainly makes Jeff feel better. Slightly. Delight might’ve bubbled up within him upon noticing how his loud action had stopped the muffled yelling between his husband and sister-in-law, but Jensen’s terrified keen puts a damper on such a feeling.

Tinged with guilt, Jeff can only rub at his son’s back and apologize. ‘‘Sorry, buddy. Papa can be pretty dumb at times. I bet that didn’t help, huh?’’

A wet, half-choked sputter against his neck is all he gains in response.

It’s worrying, and Jeff’s suddenly out of his comfort zone. He doesn’t quite know what protocol to follow when aiding someone during a panic attack; he’s running on instinct and Jensen’s physical cues. A part of him is itching to beckon Jared over for help, knowing his husband would’ve regulated Jensen’s hitched gulps of air into a less frightening pace already.

Still, Jeff takes a small victory in the fact his boy isn’t pulling away or spiraling into a worse state. In fact, stepping into the relatively quiet realm of outdoors appeared to have helped. His little guy might be hyperventilating, but the glassy, blank look in those green eyes has dissolved via a series of frequent, teary-eyed blinks: It looked like a certain someone was back in reality.

‘‘There’s my fella,’’ Jeff murmurs, offering a comforting smile.

Jensen snivels out a gasp. ‘‘P- _ah_ -pa.’’

‘‘Shhh, let’s concentrate on your breathing, yeah, sweetheart? Deep breaths for Papa, deep breaths.’’

* * *

It’s the combination of a steady heartbeat against his ear and two deep, familiar voices that ease Jensen into consciousness. He must’ve dropped off to sleep some point between being able to breathe like a normal person and Jeff’s grounding words. Regardless of his light doze, Jensen feels sluggish and wrung out, both in mind and body. He’s very much tempted to slip back into the numb realm of sleep, block out reality and ignore the thrum of building shame over his reaction…

At least, until his half-awake state is noticed.

‘‘Is my baby boy gonna wake up so he can sleep tonight?’’

The soft croon is Daddy, obviously, and Jensen feels his embarrassment triple. As much as Jeff and Jared love him, they surely didn’t sign up for Jensen’s ridiculous freak-out episode. He isn’t prone to…whatever the hell that was. Sure, a few times in the past he had found himself in that light-headed and panicky state, but not this bad. Usually, Jensen inwardly noted, he had been able to claw himself out of those rare moments of true, body-freezing panic and shakily carry on as if nothing had happened.

Not this time, though. This time he found himself reeling over the ruckus between Meg and Jared. Instead of simply panicking over the noise, Jensen had found himself caught up in old memories of an equally Texan-laced shouting match between his biological parents. Even thinking about it now made him feel pathetic; if it wasn’t for Daddy’s thumb smoothing across his left eyebrow, Jensen was pretty sure he’d be nose-diving into another mess of shame.

Maybe, Jensen idly wondered, it was his slow descent into his ‘little’ mindset that made him more susceptible to reacting the way he did. That, or maybe it was the sound of a long unheard accent coupled with male and female screeching. Or maybe –

‘‘That’s a big frown for someone who’s just woke up,’’ Papa’s voice vibrated under Jensen’s cheek.

‘‘A very big frown for very big thoughts, I think,’’ Jared added with a murmur. He sounded sad.

Although reluctant to fully open his eyes, Jensen settled with a one-eyed squint. He was surprised to find himself still in the backyard, the sky no longer bright, but dulled with the orange glow of a typical, summer evening. Although time of day had changed, his position hadn’t: Jensen remained burrowed in his papa’s arms from their seated spot atop the deck stairs. The older man hadn’t even peeled away the addition of Jared’s unwashed shirt from Jensen’s tangled grasp and, seemingly, been content to leave him be.

That said, having the owner of the ugly article of laundry before him was far better than the stale-scented shirt. Jensen blanked the twinge of embarrassment and niggle of worry upon seeing Daddy pressed against Papa’s side, his head of floppy, brown hair in Jensen’s line of sight. Such a view had Jensen opening his scratchy-feeling eyes completely as his arms shot out on their own accord. He wanted _this_ Daddy, _his_ Daddy, the Daddy who didn’t look or sound so angry or remind him of past things.

Jensen didn’t focus on Jared’s glum, guilty expression any more than he paid attention to Jeff’s amused huff. Today had been awful before his freak-out moment. It might be an hour or so later than planned, but he wanted to partake in what was expected to happen when Daddy and Papa had walked through the door in the first place. _Hugs_.

‘‘Oh, sweetpea,’’ Daddy said, immediately getting with the program.

The second those huge hands slipped under his arms and pulled him close for a much needed cuddle, Jensen exhaled heavily. Stupid, worrisome thoughts and tummy-squirming upset bled out of his small body the moment he flopped against the Padalecki’s shoulder. He produced a humming noise, relieved, and proceeded to snuffle happily at the blend of orange-blossoms and musky vanilla that made up Daddy’s scent.

‘‘I’m sorry you had to hear me rantin’ at my Lil’ sis, baby boy,’’ Jared began to apologize, his long hair and kisses tickling Jensen’s forehead. ‘‘This really wasn’t how I planned you to meet Aunt Meg. We rarely argue like that, but she’s bein’ a brat. The last thing _any_ of us would want was to scare you, Jensey. When I found out that you – ’’

‘‘Babe, ’’ Jeff’s low voice cut through Jared’s rambling.

‘‘I _scared_ him, he – he looked _white_ , Jeff,’’ Jared hissed.

Jensen winced at the sharp sound, but didn’t flinch. Still, he supposed Daddy had super powers, or somehow managed to feel Jensen’s scrunched facial expression against his shoulder, because the big man began to utter a series of apologies. Again.

‘‘Its okay, Jensey, its okay. Daddy’s sorry and –’’’

‘‘Daddy needs to stop the guilt-trip ‘cause we didn’t know this would happen,’’ Papa chimed in. ‘‘Besides, our little man’s fine now, Jay. See?’’

An uneasy, disbelieving grunt left Jared’s throat, and Jensen suddenly found himself being rearranged.

From his new spot, cradled on his back in Daddy’s arms, Jensen’s stomach flipped under the direct attention. Both men were staring down at him with unbelievably soft expressions and, while not wholly new, it still made Jensen’s face heat. The pair of them looked so worn, so concerned, yet there was a difference of emotion in their eyes that he didn’t overlook. Daddy’s fox-like eyes glimmered with unnecessary guilt while Papa’s verbally spoken confidence didn’t reach his eyes.

Inhaling deeply, Jensen gathered his nerves. He didn’t want Daddy to keep looking like a kicked puppy over nothing. Without much thought, he slipped a finger into his mouth in lieu of his absent pacifier, the comforting sensation filling him with enough confidence to be open and honest.

‘‘L-Loud,’’ Jensen began, only to stall. Inwardly, he kicked himself, cursing his poor start of explanation and raw, crackly-sounding voice. Swallowing, he opted to try again. ‘‘M’fine,’’ he peeked up at the pair, ‘‘the shoutin’ was just loud.’’

Oddly enough both his parents looked pleased at his poor attempts.

‘‘Sorry for that, sweetpea,’’ Jared planted a kiss on his brow.

Jensen shrugged. ‘‘S’kay,’’ he slurred around his finger. ‘‘You an’ Meg sounded like…uh, them.’’

‘‘Them?’’

He didn’t need to look up to see the frown on Jared’s face, not when he could hear it in the parroted word. Jensen merely sucked harder on his finger, unsure why he let slip that stupid piece of information. Still, he glanced towards Jeff and crumbled a little further under the bearded man’s encouraging smile.

‘‘My – the – _y’know._ ’’ Jensen grumbled, pressing himself closer to _his_ Daddy, his _parent_.

‘‘Alan and Donna,’’ Jeff whispered to his husband, and Jensen was grateful. At least, until Papa joined in with Daddy’s prodding. ‘‘They’d argue a lot, hm?’’

Throat a little too tight at the dredged up memory Jensen merely supplied a nod. He half-expected more questions, but no. Further questioning came to a halt and he was happy to find himself tugged back up and pressed against Jared’s chest for a rather squeeze-worthy cuddle. Jeff joined in, too: one arm thrown over his husband’s shoulder and one palm affectionately cupping the back of Jensen’s head.

‘‘Thanks for tellin’ us, sweetheart,’’ Daddy whispered as Papa hummed in approval.

Jensen, however, blinked… ‘cause as fumbling and awkward he had been, his moment of openness had been easier than expected. 

* * *

‘‘Looks like an early night is in order for us all, eh?’’

Jared grunts in response to Jeff’s comment, unable to muster up the verbal effort. His husband had been spewing idle chatter since the start of dinner, attempting to break the tense atmosphere around the kitchen table – which was, safe to say, not working. Meg was staying angry and terse and, honestly, Jared knew he wasn’t being any better over the entire situation. All he could do was bite his tongue, resist the urge to argue with his sister, and focus with feeding Jensen another bite of Genevieve’s thoughtfully made lasagna…

Not that said Modified male was accepting the meal. Jensen might’ve perked up somewhat after his little confession, but he was continuing to dodge the current sporkful of food, grizzling and slumping further in the highchair. His baby boy was over-tried, simple as. That, and Jared had a feeling the mood surrounding probably didn’t help matters regarding appetite. Even Meg, who wasn’t as sensitive as his and Jeff’s Little One, certainly hadn’t touched much of her own plate.

In fact, out of the corner of his eye, Jared’s pretty sure his sister is envisioning the food she’s brutalizing with her fork as his face.

Besides, it would hardly be the first time Meg did so. For all Meg is a young woman, she currently reminds Jared of the same angry, little girl who’d simultaneously stab at her untouched food and sulk. Strangely enough, it’s this fleeting memory of old times that brings forth a trickle of fondness in Jared, and the tightness surrounding his chest loosens a notch or two.

‘Cause life was too short to be angry.

Well, that’s what his momma, Sherri, used to say. Jared would always remember the way she’d give whoever wronged her an earful before seething in angry silence for a few hours. Only then would Momma bundle you up in her arms and all would be forgotten and forgiven by the time dinner was set on the table.

Jared feels ready to take a leaf out of Momma’s book, yank his baby sister into a hug and exchange apologies with her. After all, stupid decisions were all a part of growing up, and Megan was only twenty-two. So what if she had lied and ran circles around her older brothers to be a reckless idiot? Sure, she’d scared the shit out of them all, especially him. Oh, and there was the key issue of her blowing what minimal savings she had to party with friends in Chula Vista…

But what truly mattered, Jared noted, was that Meg was alive, safe and well.

He’s already letting go of his frustration; Jensen’s spork clattering onto the highchair’s tray as he shifts in his chair to regard his youngest sibling. Jared doesn’t need to think twice about following through with his intended plan of reconciliation. He’s mere seconds from getting up to deliver Meg a hug, an apology on the tip of his tongue, when his sister unknowingly decides cripple such plans.

‘‘For chrissakes,’’ Meg all but spits. ‘‘You two might’ve dragged me back here, but I’m not being told when it’s ‘bedtime’.’’

Ah, Jared's lips tug down. It looks like somebody’s still angry.

In retrospect, Jared can sympathize and understand her upset. He and Jeff did kind of go in ‘all guns blazing’ when arriving at Meg’s friend’s apartment. Grilling his sister in front of a crowd of her unsuspecting, hungover friends probably didn’t help; Meg was more pissed over her dented pride than anything else. It was safe to say the young woman wasn’t going to follow his and their late-Momma’s lifestyle of not going to bed angry.

Annoyed, more at her venomous tone than her attitude, Jared nearly rises to the comment. It’s only the scary, sobering image of seeing Jensen looking so scared from before that stops him rising to the bait. His sister is smart (and usually sweet) and knows how to press her older brother’s buttons. Jared knows, without a doubt, Meg’s best form of defense has always been verbal attack…

Still, Jared’s thankful that he has a husband to smooth the way.

‘‘Megan,’’ Jeff says, calm. He’s never been loud, even when angry. If anything, Jeff’s rumbling tone slows down, his voice becoming even deeper. ‘‘I didn’t say that, did I?’’ the bearded male doesn’t wait for her to reply, ‘‘It’s just been a long day for us all. Your brother is running on fumes from all his worrying and your new nephew is normally fast asleep around now. If you want to chill out instead of catching sleep, be my guest, kiddo.’’

Meg’s shoulders slump. ‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘Mhm.’’ Jeff poorly hidden smile looks a touch too smug…and Jared almost laughs.

The wind has truly been taken out of his little sister’s sails; Meg manages to look both apologetic and surprised. Jared settles with biting the inside of his cheek, mindful of hiding his humor and keeping silent. The last thing he wants to do is restart another argument of some sort during the current lull of rare, tensionless silence –

A silence that Jensen promptly breaks with an overtired whine.

Poor baby, Jared thinks, eyeing the tiny male. Jensen’s all grumbles and huffs, his small legs kicking out sluggishly with his little knees thumping on the underside of the highchair’s plastic tray. Jared’s just about to pluck the little man up when Meg reaches across the table to wipe the remnants of pasta sauce off Jensen’s chin. The action is so quick, so natural, that Jared knows Meg is simply falling into old habits, having long been used to lending a hand around the table during their nephew, Lucas’, years of messy eating.

Jensen, however, doesn’t know this, and Jared can’t help but snort at the way the little guy’s red, puffy eyes narrow at the offensive yet gentle hand near his face. He’s not the only one to find such an expression humorous: Jeff’s low chuckle is just as audible as his own. Even Meg – in her first, proper interaction with Jensen since arriving – looks amused, albeit caught off-guard by her own actions.

Suddenly, it’s like Megan’s back to normal; she’s less focused on anger and smiling at him tentatively. Jared can’t help but feel giddy with relief at his sibling’s improved mood. So much so, in fact, that he grins hugely in return.

‘‘Nice ‘n’ clean thanks to Aunt Meggy,’’ Jared finds himself cooing, thumbing Jensen’s nose.

A small, sweaty palm bats Jared’s hand away. ‘‘Nuh- _No_.’’

‘‘Ah, I didn’t mean to – ‘’’ Megan flounders, misinterpreting the situation. ‘‘It’s just – well, I’m used to Lucas and…never mind. I – ’’

‘‘Hey, hey,’’ Jared hastens to interrupt her, ‘‘you haven’t upset him, Meg. Isn’t that right, sweetpea?’’ he wiggles his fingers under his son’s chin. ‘‘You’re not upset at Meg at all. You’re just a sleepy, sleepy baby, aren’t you?’’

‘‘S’eepy,’’ Jensen echoes the word, yawning hugely.

Jared feels himself melt and, automatically, stands to pluck Jensen from his highchair. Within a blink of an eye those small, soft arms encircle his neck in a startlingly tight grip. He doesn’t complain though, he’s been craving Jensen’s koala-style of clinging hugs since leaving their home this morning.

‘‘Go on, babe,’’ Jeff says. ‘‘The pair of you get into our bed, I’ll be in shortly. Meg’s goin’ to help me wash-up.’’

‘‘I am?’’ Meg squawked.

‘‘Yeah, and we can have a little talk,’’ Jeff’s tone is friendly, but his raised eyebrow leaves room for no argument.

For the briefest of moments, Meg looks ready to slip back into her argumentative attitude, until she shuts her mouth with an audible clip of teeth. Idly, Jared sways on the spot with his sleepy baby boy and glances between his husband and sister. He’s under no illusions that Jeff is going to tiptoe around Meg’s recent actions and, from Meg’s resigned expression, she’s fully aware also.

After all, Jeff can be a gruff hard-ass…and Jared’s _really_ tempted to side with his sister, coddle her some, and tell Jeff to leave her be until her moodiness runs out of steam. Yet, despite his big brother instinct to protect his little sister from life itself, he had a feeling Megan’s been due a reality check for a while now. Nevertheless, Jared is more than grateful for the reprieve and, with a grateful kiss to his husband’s scruffy cheek and soft-spoken goodnight to his sister, he slinks out the kitchen with his baby boy half-snoozing in his arms.


	21. Chapter 21

_‘‘So, basically, all this –  bailing from Texas to couch-surf and party over here – is because you were…fed-up? Really?’’_

Groaning, Meg winced as Jeff’s incredulous tone continued to ring in her ears long after their brief chat last night. Her brother-in-law hadn’t been too bad during their talk. Between washing dishes and occasionally giving her the stink-eye when she got too snappy, Jeff had been surprisingly mellow about her whole venture. The only aspect the older man had taken umbrage with had been lying and, of course, upsetting Jared.

In retrospect, telling JR she was off to visit Jared and Jeff hadn’t been the smartest of plans. Her siblings did talk frequently enough, and it had been only a matter of time for them to find out. Yet, back then, Meg didn’t care: she needed _out_. Being twenty-two, stuck working at a local coffee joint and living with her eldest sibling, his wife, Amanda **,** and son, Lucas, had been smothering. All her friends had left town in dribs and drabs, for college or greener pastures.

Finding out Jared and Jeff had adopted had been the perfect excuse to leave her home in Texas and offer up the lie of helping the new parents. Meg just needed a break or – or _something_. JR and Jared had already been living away from home by the time they were her age. Although, a small, nasty part of Meg chimed in that, at her age, her brothers had Momma alive and well…

Well, that was a bitter tasting thought that Meg promptly shut down.

The point was she hadn’t planned to rapidly blow her small savings on shopping and parties. That didn’t mean JR had to bellow down the phone at her any more than Jared had to embarrass her in front of her friends. She was an adult, and she would’ve figured her situation out without having Jared intervene via dragging her back to his and Jeff’s home in Nowheresville.

‘‘Urgh.’’ Meg mumbled as she ran her fingers through her hair.

She knew that she needed to apologize to her family, especially to Jared. However, after a restless night’s sleep of mulling things over, Meg couldn’t bring herself to leave the guest bedroom just yet. She was quite content to remain where she was: perched at the end of the large, mussed-up bed, avoiding the world and idly scrolling through Facebook on her phone –

Until a steady _slap-thud-clatter_ from the hallway garnered her attention.

Briefly, she assumes the slight racket is Jared’s masked attempt to rouse her from the guest bedroom. It’s such an annoying, brother-like thing to do. Meg’s just about to ignore the noise and return her focus to the handful of messages from her friends when a new sound is added to the mixture of noises. Babbling. At least, that’s what it sounds like. It’s such a soft, barely audible sound outside her door that Meg can’t help but go and investigate.

Slipping off the bed and creeping towards the door, she remained quiet, undetected. A part of her already knew the answer as to who could be making the combination of noises, particularly when she had long committed the array of Jeff’s gravelly timbre and Jared’s jovial voice to her memory. There’s no way the light, albeit grumbling, tone that emitted from the other side of the door belonged to either men, and that merely spurred Meg into wanting to remain unnoticed when she opens the door.

As expected, the creator of the noise is the house’s remaining occupant, Jensen. 

The boy remains oblivious to her, far too busy. He appears to be caught up in a dilemma, his tiny arms clutching a selection of toys as he attempts to toddle towards the entrance hall, undoubtedly on his way to the living room. Attempt is the key word, however, as the slap-thud-clatter of noise makes itself known by Jensen’s movement. Meg really has to bite her lip to stifle an amused coo at the sight of Jensen tottering about with his load and the string of pull-along wooden ducks that’s tangled itself around his ankle, hindering his movement.

It’s in that moment, as Jensen continues to gripe nonsensically behind his pacifier, that Meg looks – _really looks_ – at Jensen. Aside from their passing interaction at yesterday’s dinner, her head had been too clouded with anger and embarrassment towards her situation to notice much of the kid – no.  _Man_. Jensen’s really a man beneath his modified-softened features, shrunken height, diaper-padded bottom and babyish attire. Then again, Meg supposes that’s the whole point of  Littles: all of the fun of having a baby without the worry of having them growing up and leaving you.

She had known for many years that Jared had always wanted a Little One – like, the real kind of adult baby, the consensual-kind. It was pretty common to adopt a Modified baby from a local agency, but she had seen how many people treated the nicknamed 'Littles' like beneath pets and more akin to fashion accessories. She’d also heard enough rants from her brother to know about the whole non-con aspect. So, yeah, Meg had been shocked at the email she received from Jared a few months back, detailing her of how Jensen came to be and the ‘baby’s’, eventual, agreement.

Still, Meg finds herself admitting one thing: Jensen’s a natural at being a Little One.

There’s no sign of anything adult in Jensen’s current behavior. The short male is very much in the baby to very young toddler category, and Meg is both heart-warmed and fascinated at the sight before her. She ends up staying silent, content to stand in the doorway and simply watch Jensen’s bow legs wobble like toddler. That is, until the clatter of pull-along ducks getting underfoot has Jensen’s knees hitting the floor with an audible thud for the third time.

‘‘Need some help there, little guy?’’

To say Jensen was startled would’ve been an understatement; the little man practically jumped out of his skin. Naturally, Meg raised her hands upon approach and failed at fighting the grin that tugged at her lips. It was hard not to smile, especially when those wide, green eyes narrowed into a suspicious squint at her. She remained unfazed by Jensen’s reaction though, and slid down onto her knees beside him.

‘‘Look at you carrying too many toys, ’’ Meg began to chatter, keeping her tone friendly. ‘‘These duckies are cute.’’ She untangled the item’s woven cord from the male’s miniscule ankle. ‘‘Has my big brother been spoilin’ you, Jensen?’’

With his foot freed, Jensen slid back and plopped down on his padded rear. Silent yet watching.

Ah. Meg felt her smile dip. Well, clearly she wasn’t in Jensen’s good books. Not that she blamed him, their first impression hadn’t been the best. And, yet…

‘‘Of course he has,’’ she continued, ‘‘Jay’s always been a coddler. When I was younger I used to love how he’d treat me, but now…’’ Meg drifted off with a sigh. ‘‘Now, he’s worse than your Uncle JR. I swear, there’s being protective and then there is being annoying.’’

Jensen’s head tilted at her confession, the soft sound of him suckling on his pacifier filling the hallway. It seemed like her new nephew wasn’t much of a talker – or, more likely, Jensen remained shy. Meg grinned at the latter, her attention automatically zeroing in on the way Jensen was looking up at her through his eyelashes as he began fiddling with his bare toes.

Laughing, Meg couldn’t help but cup the boy’s face between her hands. When Jensen didn’t look upset at the action, but merely wrinkled his nose, she brushed her thumbs against the growing blush filling the little guy’s lightly-freckled cheeks. Damn, he was a cutie pie.

Meg snorted and patted Jensen’s face. ‘‘But you’re lucky. No icky big brothers for Jensen, is there?’’

She shook her head at herself, already turning her focus to collecting the strewn toys that had been dropped, completely missing the brief frown that crossed Jensen’s features.

* * *

‘‘- c’mon then, squirt.’’

Jeff halts in his task of cutting cucumbers at the overheard snippet of Meg’s cajoling tone. Naturally, he takes a glance at his wristwatch, bemused and surprised in one go. It’s nearing 1PM, and that’s early when he had expected a day of leaving meals outside the guest room door, allowing Meg to lick her wounds and _think_. But no, it seems his young sister-in-law has not only left her designated room earlier than estimated, but has also managed to gain company.

At least, Jeff assumes Meg is talking to the newest member of their family, and not simply mumbling to herself. Jeff checks his theory by glancing over his shoulder, towards the utility room, where Jared is audibly pottering around. He can hear his husband chatting aloud, talking in a familiar tone often reserved for Littles…and that confuses him.

‘‘Jay,’’ Jeff calls, slowly. ‘‘Jay, is Jensen still with you?’’

‘‘Hmm? Yeah,’’ Jared’s voice is muffled, but chipper.

Frowning, Jeff abandons his spot at the counter and steps towards the doorway of the utility room. He’s just peering into the small, cluttered room reserved for laundry when Jared ducks out from underneath the lower shelves beside the dryer, arms laden with old bed-sheets. Jeff bears witness to the slow dawning horror blossoming upon Jared’s face the moment his floppy-haired husband catches onto to fact Jensen isn’t in the vicinity at all. Thankfully, Jeff has an inkling were their son has slipped off to.

Yet, before he can breathe a word of Jensen’s guessed whereabouts, Jared is already scrambling to his feet. Jeff very nearly gets bowled over by the taller male, their shoulders knocking against each other when a familiar voice cuts through the air.

‘‘No!’’

It’s sharply spoken yet laced with a childish indignation that is rather endearing. A short little word that is, seemingly, one of the few Jensen is comfortable in saying. Or, in this case, announcing.

Either way, Jeff finds the voice of their Little One’s presence has an immediate reaction of calming Jared down from sudden, fleeting panic. Although they can’t see Jensen, hearing him is enough. Jeff’s still mentally scratching his head over how their boy got past him in the first place, when Meg’s exasperated voice enters the equation.

‘‘Okay, okay! I get it, nobody touches Jensen’s bunny.’’

Both he and Jared can’t help but laugh at the distant, overheard exchange. Jeff’s still chuckling under his breath, stepping further back into the kitchen when Jensen and Meg make an appearance. The female looks frazzled, her arms twitching towards the tiny, stubborn male who is, not only leading the way past the table and chairs, but seems to be lugging an armful array of toys.

‘‘Has my sweetpea raided his nursey’s toybox?’’ Jared coos, stepping forward.

Jensen chirrups something incoherent behind his soother and the wall of toys obscuring his face. Whatever was said sounded happy though, and Jensen picks up his teetering pace towards their direction. Jeff’s both amazed and amused that the Modified male hasn’t fallen over, yet. However, it’s almost as if some higher being heard his thoughts, and it’s only some quick reaction from Meg that saves his little man from walking into the kitchen island.

A whiny noise emits from Jensen, oblivious to what he had been saved from, as he twitches away from his Aunt.

‘‘He…er,’’ Meg stalls in her speech, avoiding Jared’s thankful, puppy-eyed expression. She keeps her eyes on Jensen, watching him drop his collected bounty on the floor. ‘‘He’s an independent little guy, that’s for sure. Kept grouchin’ until I left him to it with carrying ‘em all.’’

‘‘Yeah?’’ Jared _tries_.

‘‘Yeah.’’ Meg nods…and Jeff can _feel_ of the heavy weight of awkwardness settling in the atmosphere.

Fucking idiots, Jeff thinks. Both brother and sister are so alike it’s painful: they want to talk, but don’t know how.

Which is ridiculous, really. Jeff has gotten Meg to open up a little between light scolding and prying, but it was clear she needed to be talking to Jared, or JR, about how she felt and why she acted. When he’d been twenty-two, Jeff has been trying to find a job in NYC and living in his Impala. In comparison, Meg was doing great despite her recent deceit and spending spree. Whatever the case, Jeff takes pity on _his_ idiot Padalecki’s and sets things into motion.

‘‘Think you two are due a catch-up,’’ Jeff begins, ignoring the siblings dual attempts of cutting him off. ‘‘Finish makin’ lunch together, and _talk._ ’’

‘‘I…’’ Meg looks startled.

Jared sounds just as startled. ‘‘But, Jeff. Wait – ! ’’

Shooting his husband a stony expression works wonders. Jeff watches the way Jared heaves out a gusty sigh and wilts a little in acceptance. Even Meg, who he purposefully eyes and silently begs to not start a verbal sparring match in a bid to avoid honest answers, gives a small shrug. Only with that in hand, does Jeff snag the bundle of bed-sheets out of his husband’s hold and focus on his little ray of sunshine.

‘‘C’mon, fella. Let’s leave these knuckleheads and go make that fort Daddy promised you.’’

* * *

It’s so very warm outside that, once completed by Papa, Jensen relishes in the cool shade their impromptu fort provides.

The structure, complied of old bed-sheets and garden chairs had taken a while to build. Jeff used a variety of knotted sheet corners and plastic clothespins from to keep the material secure enough to create a sturdy, yet crude, gazebo of sorts. There is only two blanketed sides to the fort, creating enough shade and allowing the summer breeze to pass through, allowing those inside to stay cool and able to see the majority of the backyard.

The latter was Jensen’s favorite part; he was able to play games with Papa and keep an eye on the patio doors, waiting for whenever Daddy would appear. It was the size of the fort, however, that Jeff probably liked. His Papa could sit down without having to hunch, fitting rather comfortably under the cotton canopy and upon the picnic blankets beneath. Jensen wished he could’ve said he had helped more in the build of such a masterpiece, but he’d really just stood by, holding items until his papa asked for them. Nevertheless, Jeff had doused him in praise over anything, be it handing over a clothespin, or simply standing by patiently.

It had been nice, chilling in the garden and pretending his face was pink from the warm, afternoon sun as opposed to Jeff’s constant stream of affection. After a while, Jensen had stuffed away any ugly, slow-brewing thoughts Megan had unintentionally stirred-up in favor of enjoying time outside. Even his lingering insecurity and anxiety of being parted from his daddy, Jared, had washed away under Jeff’s distractions.

After all, under their fort and away from the too bright sun rays of summer, he and Papa had only just stopped their intense game of Hungry, Hungry Dinos. It was pretty hard to think very big thoughts when Jensen had been preoccupied by Papa’s plastic, dinosaur army attempting to eat his toes or Honey the bunny’s ears. Now, however, with his giggles tapering off and Jeff relenting in tickling his bare feet, he could hear Meg and Jared’s approaching voices…

‘‘Quit apologizin’ for dumb decisions. C’mere, Meggy, I’m sorry, too.’’

‘‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that, _Jare-bear_.’’

‘‘Okay, bratling,’’ Jared teased, ‘‘you best go back to groveling before I pull out the real embarrassing nicknames.’’

‘‘You wouldn’t – !’’

The Padalecki duo were on the decking, albeit still lingering by the threshold of the open sliding doors of the living room. They looked scarily alike with their wide grins and silky, brown hair. Jensen finds his brows furrowing at the pair; clearly, whatever the siblings had talked about had banished that awful, awkwardly tense atmosphere. The two of them were laughing, now, like whatever drama and anger that had taken place yesterday hadn’t happened. It was weird to witness, kind of, especially when Jensen had been trying to ignore the sharp pang that filled his chest at Meg’s off-hand comment about big brothers.

She had, unknowingly, hit a sore subject.

‘Cause Jensen _did_ have a big brother, Josh.  
  
Well, maybe not. Josh had long stopped being his older brother the moment he left him for dust – and, no, Jensen wasn’t referring to the incident when he was six years old. He wasn’t bitter enough to blame Josh for Alan and Donna’s actions of keeping their eldest child yet dumping their youngest at a gas station. Josh had been a kid, too. What Jensen did blame Josh for, however, revolved only around the older male’s own actions, back when Jensen had been fresh out of the foster system and –

A large, calloused thumb swept across his crinkled brow, immediately shutting down that particular thought before it would flourish further.

‘‘Such frowny thoughts,’’ Jeff’s familiar rumble, accompanied by touch, diverted Jensen’s focus.

Blinking, Jensen silently welcomed the diversion from picking at the wounds of his past. Usually, he avoided dwelling on instances or people of the past. Although, now, it was damn hard to keep past memories buried when his emotions got the better of him. It must’ve been his relatively new environment with Jared and Jeff, his new _family,_ that had forced him into evaluating events of the past. Living hand to mouth on the streets kept him both physically and mentally busy enough to not think and feel outside of meeting basic needs, unlike now.

Now, Jensen noted, it was like all his pent-up emotions were seeping out his pores.  
  
He was literally being led around by his heart, not his head, as his rationality continued to deteriorate. As of late, all it took was one thing to set him off and turn him into a blubbering mess; such as yesterday, and his weepy, panicky reaction to Jared and Meg’s shouting match upon linking them to the hazy, terrifying memories of his early childhood.

Even today, listening to Meg mention older brothers had brought forth thoughts of Josh that made Jensen’s gut twist with unease and irritation prickle up his back. The latter of the two feelings merely continued to grow though, despite his lack of focus now on Josh. Instead, Jensen’s strangely agitated state seemed to be feeding off the sound of Jared and Meg happy ruckus.

A part of him was relived at their obvious re-connection and lack of continued tension, while another, smaller and ugly part of him felt… _disgruntled_ , to say the least. It was like being hit by a tidal wave; the sudden surge of ‘it’s not fair!’ welling up inside his small body. He hadn’t had such a bitter, angry mindset since he had been aged sixteen and swimming in angst. Yet, knowing Jared had forgiven Meg made Jensen wonder _why_ she got a nice big brother like Jared when Jensen had been stuck with Josh. If Jared had been Jensen’s brother, he’s sure Jared wouldn’t have done what Josh did. Jared would’ve helped him, not left him after taking what little money Jensen had in the first place.

Yet, these thoughts didn’t matter, really, did they?

Jared was his _daddy_. Not sibling. That, certainly, was a far better. If anything, such a thought fizzled the spark of brewing resentment away

‘‘Daddy,’’ Jensen murmured to himself, his pacifier hanging on only by his teeth.

‘‘Yeah, Daddy and Aunt Meg are here now, ’’ Jeff said with a small smile. Jensen felt his eyelids dip to half-mast when the bearded male idly massaged the back of his scalp. ‘‘Some lunch is in order, I think,’’ his papa hummed, magic fingers kneading away the big bad, over-thinking thoughts. ‘‘Then a nap.’’

The words sunk past the bliss, and Jensen promptly swung his head away from Jeff’s hand to shoot the older man a glare. ‘‘Nuh-uh.’’

‘‘Definitely a nap, grumpy-pants,’’ Jeff chuckled, lightly popping Jensen’s soother like a button.

Ignoring Papa’s plan was easy, unlike holding off the natural habit to suck the teat of his soother further into his mouth under Jeff’s ministrations. Either way, Jensen swiftly crawled across the picnic blankets that made up the fort’s flooring and, the moment his hands met grass, scrambled onto his feet to totter across the lawn and towards Jared. His floppy-haired parent was descending the decking’s steps with one arm thrown over Meg’s shoulders while the other appeared to be holding a tray of drinks and foodstuffs.

‘‘Daddy!’’ Jensen called out.

‘‘ – and there my Lil' builder is!’’ Daddy cheered at his arrival. ‘‘Are you here to show Daddy and Aunt Meggy your awesome fort?’’

Jensen all but collided against Jared’s nearest leg, huddling close and smooshing his cheek against Jared’s knee. Worming between Meg and Jared’s legs, separating the huggy pair, proceeding to be far more direct than before with letting his daddy know his wants. Sure, Jensen wasn’t very obvious (or vocal) during his squirmy, attempted climb up Jared’s leg, but the hazel-eyed man got with the program soon enough.

‘‘Aw, sweetpea, you lookin’ for cuddles, too?’’ Jared sounded less sympathetic and more ecstatic. ‘‘Let me give Meg this tray and then I can… ’’

A short shuffle, a clink of glasses and, then, Jensen found himself scooped up into a hug.

‘‘There we go.’’ Daddy pressed a kiss to his face, holding him like a prize, adding, ‘‘Just look at my smiley baby, Meg. Isn’t he the greatest?’’

‘‘He’s cute, I’ll give him that,’’ Meg laughed, sounding every inch like Jared.

‘‘Jensey is so much more than cute,’’ Jared tutted at his sibling, but his eyes never left Jensen. ‘‘My sweetpea has been so very, very _good_ when he was with Gen, and _very, very brave_.’’

Jensen would deny how red his face turned over such words, be they from Meg or Jared, but he would admit that he did – _kinda, sorta, most definitely_ – preen over being called brave.

* * *

 

Lunch had been a short and sweet affair complied of an array of sandwiches, snacks and a few treats.

Naturally, Jared was keen to recall, Jensen had swiped a cookie before any adult could intervene. They, mainly himself and Meg, had been busy trying to get settled under the cool, cotton canopy of his Little One’s impressively sized fort. Jeff, on the other hand, had been busy with helping himself to an icy glass of lemonade during Jensen’s antics. Either way, both he and his husband had quickly remedied the situation with their green eyed boy, proffering carrot and celery sticks and promises of more treats once more filling and healthier options had been eaten first.

Not that a full tummy would stop Jensen from trying to devour one more sweet treat, be it popsicles or cookies.

The same could be applied for consciousness, Jared supposed, smiling down at Jensen’s small form. His baby boy was more asleep than awake; curled sideways in his lap, nestled a little ways backwards in the curve and support of Jared’s arm. He took a moment to simply admire the tiny male, (taking in the smatter of freckles and messy flicks of golden-brown hair) before opting to use his free hand to cease Jensen’s current…sleep eating.

His silly boy had refused to accept the need to nap and had fallen sleep eating a strawberry. Although, in all honesty, ‘eating’ wasn’t a true term. The fruit was half-mushed, clutched tightly in Jensen’s sticky fist as he sleepily suckled on it akin to his binky. Flowing salvia and strawberry juice did a wonderful job of creating a mess. It stained the front of Jensen’s body suit in pink-ish smears and left a surprisingly stubborn residue around his mouth and chin.

He refused to sigh upon extracting the squashed, slimy fruit from his son’s mouth and death-grip hold.

‘‘Oh, that’s gross.’’

Jared shot his sister a withering look. ‘‘I can recall Mom prying a half-dead cricket from your mouth.’’

An embarrassed groan exited Megan’s mouth rather loudly.

‘‘Shh,’’ Jeff hushed her, tipping his beer bottle towards their napping babe in silent reminder. ‘‘Besides,’’ his husband began, a teasing glint in his eyes, ‘‘I thought she used to eat dust bunnies?’’

Chuckling, Jared couldn’t hold back the wide grin upon knowing his husband already knew most (if not all) aspects of his upbringing. And, yes, that included embarrassing stories involving his siblings. Still, before he could answer Jeff, Megan hastily stopped further good-natured banter.

‘‘Okay, okay,’’ she whined, ‘‘I get it. Babies do gross things and I was Queen of gross things.’’

‘‘Aw, Meggy, I wouldn’t say that,’’ Jared failed at sounding apologetic.

Jeff, however, merely continued to mock. ‘‘Was? You still _are_ Queen of Gross. I saw your last boyfriend…’’

Oh, how Jared wished he could’ve contained the bark of laughter that left his mouth. It was raucous and made his whole body jolt. Jensen fussed, until Jeff leaned across to pop a soother into their little’s pouty mouth. Still, laughter continued to make Jared’s shoulder’s shake for a moment longer.

‘‘Right, this – ’’ Megan scowled, voice stern as she gestured to him and Jeff, ‘‘ – _this_ is why I live with JR and not you guys. Y'all bitchy. ’’

She sounded so much like Mom that Jared’s heart gave a small twinge. Particularly when he spotted how his sister’s acting skills didn’t transfer to her features. Mom had been able to keep a stony face when jokingly telling them off as kids, even when she wanted to laugh, yet it seemed Meg didn’t inherit that certain skill. Noticing the hint of a poorly suppressed smile on his baby sister’s face simply had Jared wanting to laugh more, especially when Jeff openly snickered something involving the word ‘eyebrows’.

The young woman gaped at Jeff before swivelling her heard towards Jared. ‘‘And why didn’t you tell me y’all used Facebook? He – ’’ she jerked a thumb towards Jeff ‘‘ – goddamn spies on me!’’

‘‘We,’’ Jeff brightly corrected. ‘‘We spy and we have joint account because we’re lazy. ’’

Jared couldn’t help but chime in, ‘‘we also agreed that you could’ve dated a guy who did a _little_ manscaping. That mono-brow was…interesting.’’

‘‘Urgh, I didn’t know you two used it to spy!’

Inwardly, Jared appreciated her good humor and the fact, despite sounding genuinely astonished, kept her voice low enough not to disturb Jensen’s snoozing. This, his husband laughing and Meg smiling, was how family visits were supposed to go. It was such a far cry from the previous evening that is was downright heavenly, especially when Jensen appeared not to be fazed by Meg’s arrival. Their baby boy had been a little out of sorts so far today; clingier with Jared and a tad lost-looking unless distracted.

The older Padalecki chalked up his son’s behavior as nothing too serious. Jensen simply hadn’t reacted well to his daddies’ impromptu daytrip and Gen’s babysitting. Although, considering his baby boy was currently asleep and had shared a few shy exchanges with Megan, it was safe to say Jensen must’ve been comfortable enough around his newly introduced Aunt’s presence. Still, Jared felt concern niggle at the back of his mind…

Until Megan prodded him on the shoulder.

‘‘Jared, control your husband.’’

Ignoring his sister’s comment, Jared decided he’d kiss his husband instead.

* * *

 

Body still pink from a warm bath and clad only in a fresh diaper, Jensen mindlessly toddled about in his parents’ bedroom in a contented daze. He no longer cared how he could’ve been the poster child for the _Johnson & Johnson_ Company; he smelt super nice. A blend of talcum powder and lavender. It was a scent that soothed him almost as much as the family laundry detergent that contained the aroma of orange-blossoms…

‘‘Jensen,’’ Jeff’s fond huff travelled down the hall. ‘‘Jensen, did you just run away from Papa?’’

‘‘Un!’’ he grunted back from behind his binky, loud enough to be heard.

It didn’t matter that Jensen was unintelligible. His daddies always seemed to know what he meant and, given Jeff’s distant chuckle, the bearded man knew Jensen wasn’t being grumpy. If anything, he was just letting his papa have an idea of his current whereabouts, which just so happened to be in the master bedroom.

He had wandered off, bored, while Papa was digging through the drawers in the nursery, probably looking for some jammies. Although, come to think of it, Jensen didn’t know why he had waddled off into this particular destination. That is, until he spotted Honey and Blue.

Honey, with her impossibly long ears, was slouched in all her golden, fuzzy rabbit glory on the lone chair in the bedroom. She was nestled next to his droopy-faced corduroy pup, Blue. They were both on top of a pile of his daddies’ rumpled t-shirts that appeared to be stuck in the Limbo of ‘could be worn again’ or ‘possible laundry yet to be moved’. Jensen happily snagged his two gifted companions, tucking one under each arm before turning and – _Ah._

Pausing in his plan to return to Papa, Jensen blinked at his reflection before him.

The tall, rectangular mirror was freestanding; it was wedged in the room’s corner, near-by the chair he occupied. Jensen had often overlooked the piece of bedroom furniture, having often spent most of his times in his daddies’ big bed, as opposed to snooping around the bedroom. However, this time, it was hard to dismiss a simple, everyday piece of furniture when Jensen was so up-close to the reflective surface.

Catching his reflection shouldn’t have been a big deal, he’d often caught a glance or two of himself since his Modification into an Adult Baby. His dwarfed stature and mildly diminished, adult-like features wasn’t something new to witness. No, he’d analyzed his hairless, peachy skin and softened jawline a long while ago. His Modified body had been ‘the norm’ for some time now, but… but…

But Jensen didn’t realize how much _weight_ he’d clearly gained.

Looking at himself was odd, awkward, and made his face heat. For once, the diapers and baby-stuff wasn’t his first source of shy, almost faintly embarrassed, attention. It felt good to merely follow his wants, be it sucking on a pacifier or playing with toys he had never experienced back when he was truly a child.

Never once did Jensen eyes linger on the reflected sight of his plush toys under his arms, or diaper around his hips. He didn’t even notice how the red pacifier, adorned with a cartoon raccoon, had increased its speed of bobbing between his lips. What Jensen did focus on, however, was how his face looked a touch more _rounded_ (chubbier) and his arms and thighs appeared thicker (chunkier) than _ever._

It was his tummy though, that garnered the majority of his attention.

His stomach had always been a flat, nonexistent part of his body for as long as he could remember. As a kid, he’d been all bony knees and elbows, which was transferred into a gangly teen and, finally, a rather skinny young adult. Maybe, Jensen wondered, he wasn’t meant to have been as thin as he had been given his limited food source.

To an outsider, this weight gain would’ve been viewed as healthy when compared to the state Jensen had arrived in. The boy had been vaguely aware of Doc Sheppard telling his daddies to add something to his bottles of milk for extra nutrients, or something. Nevertheless, the fact still remained that carrying a few extra pounds (or more) was _weird_ and _foreign_.

Jensen didn’t know whether to feel annoyed, disgusted, or fascinated upon staring at the plump yet slight roundness of his belly. Had his diaper been a little less new and more worn in through movement, his tummy certainly would’ve protruded a lot more without the high waistband. Often or not, his diaper would slip down to his hips if he’d been particularly active and, had that been the case, his pudgy stomach would be even _more_ on show and…

And a hand, big and calloused and familiar, covered both of his own.

‘‘Hey, now – no stripping off, handsome.’’

Scrunching his face at the choice of endearment, Jensen spotted Jeff crouched behind him via the reflective surface of the mirror. He hadn’t even heard Papa come in, let alone noticed when he abandoned Honey and Blue to the floor in a bid to prod and poke at his tummy. Although, Jensen wasn’t really patting at the fleshy addition; at least, not now.

It seemed his hands had a mind of their own and stopped their idle exploration of patting the soft, albeit very minor, outward curve of his tummy. Instead, Jensen now realized, his thought process of diapers must have made his hands migrate towards one of the two, sticky straps that held his diaper in place. In fact, he was probably picking at the starry-blue patterned tape given Jeff’s assumption and current attention.

‘‘Papa turns his back for one minute,’’ the older man was saying, ‘‘and next thing he knows, his sunshine is gone and is planning on runnin’ about nakey.’’

‘‘Wa-wasn’t!’’ Jensen protested, horrified. It was one thing to be _nakey_ around his daddies, but Meg was in the house and… ‘‘Nuh-uh,’’ he mumbled.

‘‘Sure, kiddo.’’ Jeff smiled, smoothing both diaper tabs with his thumbs.

His papa didn’t sound like he believed him, so Jensen grumbled.

No way would he strut about completely naked, especially now he spotted his chubby tummy. Besides, having Gen change his diaper had been bad enough. Merely thinking of others seeing him bare had Jensen’s face and chest turn splotchy-red with embarrassment. Today had been bad enough when Jared stripped him of his elasticated shorts, leaving him in his short-sleeved bodysuit with his bare legs on show.

Maybe it was the prickle of embarrassment, muddled emotions surrounding his weight, or the squirmy-ugly-reminder of his old family…but, whatever it was, Jensen’s eyes suddenly got warm and blurry.

A rough, hairy knuckle was swept under his chin. ‘‘Hey, now, Lil’ man, what’s all this?’’

Jensen refused to cry, but he did sniffle once or twice. Jeff pressed a kiss against his warm cheek, the tickle-scratch of his facial hair easing the building pressure in his chest. He still wanted to curl in on himself, a tad self-conscious, until he found himself being plucked up and held aloft.

Looking down at Jeff’s face was an odd experience when Jensen was so used to looking up. Yet, in spite of briefly marveling at the change of view, Jensen found himself subjected to one of those warm yet scrutinizing looks that Papa and Daddy only seemed capable of. It was almost like being x-rayed, and the tiny male tried to shy away as much as he could in his position: curling his form and tucking his limbs closer to his body, hiding his tummy.

Doing so was futile, or gave Jeff an answer to unspoken questions.

Whatever the case, Jensen found himself being tossed up in the air with a light _‘hup!’_ emitting from Jeff. It was more terrifying than fun, making his limbs jerk and fail outward before large hands expertly caught him under his arms. Jensen tried to calm himself by telling himself he’d been less thrown and more bounced, with a little dash of a second or so time being airborne. That didn’t stop his racing heart one bit, however.

Nonetheless, before Jensen could gather his wits or even so much as tremble his chin, he found his exposed belly assaulted by his papa’s mouth. He wiggled at what he expected to be an affectionate kiss upon his stomach, not entirely impressed at the obvious weight gain in that particular area, let alone Jeff’s sudden press of lips and scruff against his navel.

Belly kisses didn’t seem to be agenda, though.

At least, not when Jeff kept his mouth pressed to Jensen’s tummy, blowing out a breath that produced a long, drawn out crude noise. It had Jensen seize up at the extremely ticklish sensation, a bout of giggle-turned-shrieks leaving his mouth quicker than his pacifier did. Said item fell, hitting Jeff’s shoulder and disappearing somewhere onto the floor as his papa proceeded to repeat his previous action of blowing another raspberry on Jensen’s stomach.

By the third round of being subjected to another raspberry, albeit somewhat wetter than the others, Jensen was breathless with his fists balled into Jeff’s salt-and-pepper speckled hair. Half-choked giggles continued to leave him as his papa, unable to pull back without possible hair-loss, began to simply nuzzle at his belly and sides.

‘‘Don’t you hide this tummy from me, not now you finally have one,’’ Papa sounded growly, but playfully so and muffled with his mouth still against Jensen’s stomach. ‘‘Grrrr!’’ the noise vibrated against his skin, making Jensen yelp in delight. ‘‘Now you’ve got a Lil’ meat on these bones, I can eat you up, sunshine. I will, I will, I _willll_ …’’

The last word was purposefully drawn out and topped off with another bear-like growl, tickling Jensen further nipping his growing self-consciousness in the bud, expertly diverting any bleak thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PERSONAL NOTE: First off, I want to deliver a huge thanks (Like, super HUGE. Goes beyond words HUGE) to all of you who have stuck around during my unplanned hiatus. The last time I updated (fuckin’ 2 years ago!) RL was kicking my ass with personal crap and my mama fightin’ the big C. Just when things mellowed out during that period, my dog died. My sweet 15yr old lab. It was like someone took me out at the knees during what I thought was my lowest point and I couldn’t get up again… until now.  
> Now, my ma is still being the battleaxe she is; (we gotta take one day at a time), and she and my dad got me a tiny fluffer of a pupper a few months back. New doggo can’t replace my ole girl but, by God, there is an element of normalcy and joy that (along with reading these wonderful/positive/encouraging comments) has been re-sparked. 
> 
> Expect a double-update this weekend, folks. You’ve earned that (and more).


	22. Chapter 22

Jared found himself rousing out of a deep sleep for no particular reason.

He wasn’t thirsty and didn’t need to use the bathroom. Jeff wasn’t snoring too loudly in his ear or prodding him with an insistent, spontaneous erection, or vice versa. In fact, Jared’s sluggish mind caught up with him, none of the latter would be happening between him and his husband when they had Jensen bunking with them.

Thinking of their Modified Little had Jared frowning into his pillow and fighting the urge to drop back off into dreamland. He could hear no whimpers or whines, hinting that Jensen was fine. Besides, Jared was exhausted after what would’ve been day three of dragging Meg into their household. Balancing an increasingly clingier than usual baby between helping his sister by figuring out her next step and playing mediator between his eldest sibling, JR, and their youngest sibling, Meg, on skype. It had been a beyond draining handful of days, that was for certain.

And, yet, _something_ niggled at Jared to wake up.

With a serious amount of effort, Jared cracked open his eyes to the view of his bedside table. A quick glance at his cell phone hinted that it was the dawn of a new day. A very early day. _4:48_ AM, to be precise. He huffed into his pillow and (not feeling any extra, Jensen-shaped weight upon his back) slowly rolled over, off his stomach and onto his side, to face the middle of the bed. Jeff was in his immediate sights, sleeping deep and immune to whatever Jared was experiencing. Jensen, on the other hand, was neither wedged between them nor sprawled on one of their bodies.

Jared threw himself into a sitting position so fast he narrowly gained whiplash.

Thankfully though, sitting up provided a better view of his and Jeff’s large bed and, in turn, the sight of Jensen. The little guy clad only in a touch too-big blue t-shirt and a diaper given the warm night, and appeared to be sitting up near the end of the bed, perched closer to his daddies’ knees than feet. In the dim early morning light of summer, Jared could see his boy clearly enough, save his face. Jensen was facing away from him, leaving Jared with the glimpse of his son’s serious case of bedhead along with a tense back and hunched shoulders.

Jared didn’t like seeing that rigidly guarded posture, and reached out. His palm barely skimmed the younger male’s back when Jensen flinched, whirling around to blink impossibly wide eyes at him. Seeing Jensen’s reaction reminded Jared of the panicky, upset boy that spiraled into a panic attack and associated his and Meg’s loud argument with events of the past, such as Alan and Donna’s undoubtedly loud and explosive fights.

Ignoring the wave of guilt, Jared reached out, slowly gathering the tiny body into his arms.

‘‘Dah- _ah_ -dee?’’ his little one rasped, confused.

Oh, Jared felt his heart shatter. It seemed a certain little had been lost in his own thoughts. He buried his nose into silken, golden-brown locks and inhaled the babyish yet uniquely Jensen-like scent. After a brief nuzzle, Jared sunk back against the pillows, propping himself and Jensen up by a small fraction before whispering, ‘‘hey, baby boy. What is my Jensey up at this hour? Has he had bad dreams?’’

He didn’t expect an answer; Jeff had relayed how their boy seemed to be post-nightmares: silent and numb. So, Jared was pleasantly surprised when Jensen shook his head in disagreement. He was also relieved, especially when Jensen’s stiff body relaxed in the cradle of his arms. A gusty sigh left Jared, the prickles of _something_ that had woken him up dispersing along with the growing tightness in his chest.

‘‘Well, if it isn’t nightmares,’’ Jared began, smiling into the fluffy golden-brown hair atop his baby’s head, ‘‘and you don’t _feel_ like you need a change...does Daddy’s sweetpea need a drink? A bottle?’’

‘‘Nuh-uh,’’ Jensen mumbled, squirming until he was half-burrowed against his bare chest.

‘‘Then what had Jensey awake and not snoozin’?’’ he coaxed, stroking his little one’s back. ‘‘Is Papa snoring too loud?’’

Another shake of the head followed before Jensen peeked up at him.

Those big green eyes looked haunted, and far too serious. Clearly, a certain someone had been in the middle of some very _Big_ thoughts in spite of looking so very, very Little. Jared popped a kiss on the tiny, freckled nose and watched the immediate reaction of his son’s cheeks blooming with color.

After several beats, Jensen’s blank expression dropped a fraction as his eyes skittered away from Jared’s gaze. It was only then, watching Jensen slipping his fingers into his mouth to gnaw nervously, that he noticed the boy had lost his soother throughout the night. Jared was just about to solve this issue (by grabbing a spare from the bedside table) when Jensen’s soft, crackly voice interrupted him.

‘‘Wa-was just…thinkin’.’’

‘‘About what?’’ Jared murmured back, his fingers mindlessly drawing patterns across the backs of Jensen’s arms and shoulders. Poor baby let loose a snuffly, cubbish whine. Sighing at his lack of answers, Jared merely continued to run his fingers in a slow, repetitive motion that should send the younger male to sleep…

‘‘Mama – _Donna_ , she did ‘em. She…always pinched me or dug her nails in.’’

Jared’s hand stilled at Jensen’s frankly spoken utterance. He didn’t need to look down to know what Jensen was referring to, especially when Jared’s fingertips remained upon the soft skin on the back of his son’s arm. He could feel the collection of raised semi-circle shapes of scar tissue that littered both the backs of Jensen’s upper arms. The silvery marks were easy to miss, yet figuring out their origin had been a question that Jared had been carrying for almost as long as that first night they brought Jensen home from Burbank and…

Sick, hot anger made Jared’s stomach churn, but he couldn’t stay silent. ‘‘Is that what you’ve been thinkin’ about?’’

‘‘Kinda,’’ Jensen’s face crumpled. ‘‘No. Yes… I guess.’’

‘‘That’s okay, baby boy,’’ Jared soothed. Or, at least, he tried to.

A stuttered exhale left the little man’s mouth. ‘‘My parents,’’ Jensen paused with a wince. ‘‘My _old_ parents,’’ he corrected, and Jared felt a surge of pride at that, ‘‘they weren’t too bad. Al and Donna, they just…just were snappy and rough. They didn’t _want_ me. Or, like me. I ‘member how they’d call me an – an accident. Back then, I didn’t understand, but that’s why they weren’t nice t’me and dumped me and…an’… ’’

‘‘Shh, _shhh_ , _shhhh_ ,’’ Jared hushed the heartbreakingly broken stammer. He rubbed circles on Jensen’s back, trying to stop the jerky tremors that accompanied the heavy gulps of inhaling too much air. This had been the most Jensen had divulged about his biological parents outside of fleeting comments or minor tidbits, leaving Jared to the keep the boy calm in a bid to find out what was going on within his head.

There was no doubt that the subject of Alan and Donna Ackles was raw in spite of how long ago they had purposefully left their youngest son at a gas station. Life in foster homes seemed to be something Jensen brushed off, yet the rejection by his biological parents had cut the male deeply. So deep, in fact, that Jared knew the results of the Ackles’ actions would forever be a part of to the adorable boy that he and Jeff had brought home.

Insecurities, trust issues and a total lack of self-esteem – Jared could list more things he’d noticed alongside Jensen’s bright eyes, natural curiosity and endless empathy. However, what he’d listed so far barely touched the surface, especially when Jared takes into account that Jensen’s own mother had been behind the visible scars. Lord knew what both Alan and Donna had done that didn’t leave physical marks, but mental ones, too.

‘‘I – I jus’ dunno wuh-why they _hated_ me s-so much.’’

Oh, _hell_. Jared found it hard to swallow the lump in his throat upon hearing Jensen’s near sob. All he could do was hold Jensen tighter to his chest and keep rubbing that little back. He had so much to say, to _reassure_ , the tiny male in his arms, but words remained caught in the back of his throat as he pressed his lips against the warm, tear-dampened curve of Jensen’s cheek. Thankfully, his actions regulated the younger male’s breathing enough to not be scary, and Jared was just about to give another attempt of speaking when the sleep-roughened voice of his husband, Jeff, cut through the sniffly lull.

‘‘Because they sound like total dicks.’’

Any other time, Jared would’ve elbowed the bearded man for cursing in front of their baby. However, his husband’s gruff comment produced a damp, amused snort from Jensen, leaving Jared unable to do anything to follow suit with a broken chuckle. Their little one was being very big, his adult headspace currently prominent, and that meant the odd bad word was okay. Jared told himself it was more than okay if it made Jensen laugh during a difficult, tense moment.

Either way, Jared blinked the warm blur from his eyes to glance at his husband in the dim light of the bedroom.  He barely turned his head a fraction when, following a rustle of bedsheets, the scratch of Jeff’s whiskers momentarily brushed against the corner of Jared’s lips in a quick, fleeting peck of comfort.

Jeff’s attention was swiftly directed to Jensen, coaxing their green-eyed boy to stop re-burrowing his face into Jared’s neck. With some joint effort between the married couple, they managed to wipe away stay tears from Jensen’s face and cuddle his small mass between them in a tangled mess of woven limbs. It was Jeff, though, who continued to talk, saying things that Jared had been wanting to say.

‘‘They were stupid, stupid people to leave you, kiddo,’’ Jeff said. ‘‘It’s their loss, and our gain. Daddy and I love you so much. We want you, okay? And we’ll never hurt you or let anyone else hurt you again.’’

A jittery keen left Jensen.

‘‘It’s true, sweetpea,’’ Jared’s voice sounded awful, but at least it finally worked. ‘‘And we can’t thank you enough for tellin’ and talkin’ to Papa and I.’’

Jensen let out a sob around the fingers he’d stuffed into his mouth, his voice loud yet words mangled. ‘‘Dey kept ‘osh, ‘ough!’’

The puzzled frown that took over Jared’s expression was something he couldn’t hide. Deciphering what _‘osh’_ was difficult when his brain was still reeling over this new information and worrisome ways to keep Jensen calm. For all that he was usually good at figuring out what Little One’s meant, be it babyish speak or hindered by emotion (or pacifiers) his brain remained uselessly blank for once. 

Blessedly, he had a husband to pick up his slack in current brain power.

‘‘Josh?’’ Jeff queried, soft and cautious.

A frustrated, hiccupping reply came from Jensen. ‘‘Y-es, Juh _-Josh!’’_

‘‘Okay, okay,’’ Jared murmured. He was half-tempted to bring Jensen back into his arms and rock him, but refrained.

Too much babying during such a moment wouldn’t help given Jensen’s frustration and clear effort of clinging onto appearing grown-up during such a serious talk. It didn’t matter that Jared noted Jensen’s attempts of remaining ‘big’ failed somewhat upon spotting his and Jeff’s boy unknowingly self-soothing through the babyish comfort of sucking his tiny fingers amidst sentences. Jared had to settle with sharing curious yet concerned glances with Jeff, both their hands continuing to stroke or pet the increasingly upset tiny male wedged between them. 

Jared ended up holding their boy’s tiny, spit-dampened fist in one hand while the other continued to nervously sweep at Jensen’s hair. Unable to help himself, he gently squeezed the hand within his hold, happy to note the Little’s ridiculously tiny fingers curled around his index and middle finger. In response, Jared brushed a kiss against captured fist’s knuckles whilst coaxing, gently, ‘‘go on. Can you tell us who Josh is?’’ 

A truly devastated look wrinkled Jensen’s features before words followed.

They were indiscernible little mumbles, quiet in volume and nonsensical with distress. Jared had barely registered that the stream of words holding a pattern, hinting that whatever Jensen was saying was being repeated more than once, when the hand in Jensen’s grip was tugged forward. He almost knocked skulls with Jeff from the unexpected action and close quarters, the motion of Jensen continuing to clutch at his hand yet rolling towards Jeff’s chest catching him by surprise.

Dumbfounded, Jared didn’t care that the angle of his wrist was awkward or uncomfortable from where it was hugged against Jensen’s chest and pressed his other-half’s bare chest. He did, however, stare pleadingly at his husband as Jensen continued to repeat his intelligible sentence into Jeff’s chest hair. It took a head tilt of obviously strained listening from the eldest male in the room, and a handful of seconds (that felt _so.much.longer_ ) until a translation was spoken:

‘‘ _‘My older brother’,_ ’’ Jeff interpreted, sounding both horrified yet doubtful.

‘‘You have a brother?’’ Jared blurted out.

The nod of Jensen’s head between them answered the unspoken question. Jared felt extremely nauseous at the confirmation, probably even more so than finding out that Mrs. Ackles’ fingernails sunk deep enough to leave those scars on Jensen. After all, scars where the result of past, not present, actions.

And, if Jensen had a brother, then, that brother was probably still around and if Jensen was mentioning such a sibling, then…

‘‘Oh,’’ Jared gave out a heavy exhale, his rapid thoughts colliding with each other to a conclusion that he didn’t wholly like, or want to voice. 

* * *

There was a dull throb behind Jensen’s eyes; the typical achy-itchy feel that followed long after a heavy session of producing tears. His throat was sore, too, regardless of his previous attempts to keep full-on sobbing to a minimum. Clearly, all efforts at keeping silly tears away and having an adult conversation had failed. Although, in all honesty, Jensen hadn’t expected to have such an emotionally draining conversation in the wee hours of the morning.

Unable to sleep, he’d been mentally running conversations through in his head.

Thinking up ways to broach the awkward subject of his asshole biological parents and equally asshole-like older brother. Jensen just wanted Jared and Jeff to know, that’s all. Just…let it all out, no skirting around issues or making them wait for the answer’s the two men had wanted the moment he agreed into them being his daddies. Like a band-aid, he just wanted to get it over with and rip it off.

He’d thought of telling them during breakfast. He would’ve brought it up when his nighttime drowsiness wore off and the majority of babyish thoughts trickled out of his mind. It would’ve taken place before Meg woke up and before he was coaxed into having a bottle….

Alas, Jensen’s planning failed due to Jared catching him awake and weepy.

Grunting at the memory, Jensen scrubbed at his entire face, limbs heavy. He must’ve cried himself to sleep, or something, because the last thing he could recall was trying to be understood between tears from his spot pressed against Papa’s chest. Now, however, he couldn’t feel the wiry brush of Jeff’s chest hair against his damp face and, instead, found himself blinking up at the ceiling of the master bedroom. 

The room was brightened by sunlight in spite of the partially drawn curtains, and Jensen guessed it was early afternoon. Sitting upright, he glanced about the empty room in a mild daze, feeling unsure. The bed was a mess of rumpled sheets and strewn diaper bag supplies; the only sign of order being the strategically placed pillows on either side of Jensen’s body, keeping him in the center of the bed with Honey and Blue within reach. The tight pressure that had long resided in his chest over the mere thought of discussing his biological family seemed to have vanished completely, save the small bundle of nervousness growing in his stomach.

 ‘Cause where was Jeff and Jared?

Jensen shifted, noting the crinkle of a fresh-feeling diaper, and craned his neck to look further around the room. If he had been changed recently, then Papa or Daddy should be close by. Panic was building, slow and painful, fluttering within his chest at the thought opening up had scared the older men away – until the conjoining bathroom door opened with a loud click.

The sight of Jared was a welcome one. It didn’t matter that the other man only had a towel slung around his hips, face hidden by smaller towel, clearly in the middle of saying something whilst rubbing his hair dry. The urge to yelp out _‘Daddy’_ and extend his arms towards the man was more of an instinctual need than a thought out action on Jensen’s behalf.

The reaction was immediate: the bathroom door opened further to reveal Jeff just as Jared stopped his previous actions to hastily comply with Jensen’s needy demand.  

It didn’t matter that Jared’s post-shower state dampened his body, or that Jeff’s follow-up kiss smeared toothpaste on his brow. All which mattered was that they hadn’t gone anywhere after his pitiful half-reveal. Unable to help himself, Jensen kept a tight grip around Jared’s neck with one arm while his free hand curled into the fabric of Jeff’s t-shirt.

‘‘Hey, now,’’ Daddy soothed. ‘‘C’mon, sweetpea. It’s okay.’’

Jensen wasn’t exactly crying, but his entire body was trembling with jittery waves of relief. He tried to calm himself down from his panicky wake-up, only to fail spectacularly. Luckily enough, having his daddies within arm’s reach helped even out his breathing, especially when the familiar sensation of Papa’s calloused hands cupped his face.

‘‘What’s all this for, fella?’’ Jeff’s comforting rumble was accompanied by the action of moving his thumbs in a repetitive sweeping motion under Jensen’s eyes.

Those work-roughened digits did wonders with grounding Jensen. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut, the sensation managing to aid in alleviating the achy throb behind his eyes. In several sweeps or so, Jensen exhaled heavily, finally responding.

‘‘N-Nothin’, Papa.’’

‘‘Didn’t seem like nothing,’’ was Jeff’s unconvinced reply.

The bearded male sounded grumbly to Jensen’s ears; he re-opened his eyes just as Jeff removed his hands from cradling his face. Seeing his papa’s brow crinkled in concern made Jensen feel squirmy, leaving him to avert his eyes elsewhere. Being able to avoid one of his parent’s scrutinizing stares was difficult with Jeff so close and Jensen locked in Jared’s arms.

Embarrassed, he tried to wriggle into a ball and hide his face against Daddy’s neck. Jensen barely brushed his nose against the damp, soap-scented skin of Jared’s collar bone when the man in question shifted him.  Only then, flat on his back in the curve of Jared’s arms, did Jensen find himself confronted with, not one, but two, concerned expressions from both his parents.

They were doing to x-ray thing, again.

Papa and Daddy were staring at him. Scanning him. Weighing ideas up. Jensen was certain he’d never fully get used to that full, one-on-one (or two-on-one) attention they seemed to deliver to him. It made him feel good, wanted, but it also made his face break out into a heavy blush.

‘‘We’re not goin’ anywhere, Jensen,’’ Daddy said, softly.

‘‘And if we did, we’d take you with us, sunshine,’’ Papa added.

Jensen smiled, albeit weakly. Although nervous and insecure, a small part of him had silently started to believe that comment for a while now. They might’ve left him here when collecting Meg, but they had not left him entirely alone; his daddies had phoned and returned when they said they would. Jared and Jeff _weren’t_ going to leave him. They weren’t. They liked him – _they loved him_ – and even though Jensen’s confidence on such an issue was fragile at best, it surprised him that it existed in the first place.

* * *

A late start meant breakfast turned into brunch and, in spite of Jensen’s uneasy night, their boy didn’t appear to be flagging in energy for his usual, mid-noon nap.

Jeff supposed the break in routine was understandable; he and Jared had opted to let their Little One sleep until naturally woken. Jensen didn’t even so much as stir when getting his usual, 8AM diaper change. Obviously, he needed the sleep-in after his heartbreaking confession surrounding the once, barely-addressed subject of his biological family. The kid had cried himself to sleep against Jeff’s chest, unintelligibly mentioning the mysterious older brother, ‘Josh’.

In retrospect, finding out Jensen had a sibling made sense. It explained how Meg’s appearance had stirred up more than a minor disturbance of a new house guest. It also made Jeff happy to know there wasn’t something worse that had turned Jensen into a clingy-koala around him and Jared since Meg’s arrival days prior.

Still…it was like a switch had been flicked after supplying reassurances to Jensen. Their overly clingy and sullen-faced little fella had turned back to his usual, cheerily shy (yet adorably grumpy) self. The reverted change to Jensen was beyond nice, like an entire breath of fresh air. Not to mention it was beyond enjoyable to see Meg interacting with the true, unguarded side of her newest nephew.

A loud, feminine shriek cut through the air, garnering Jeff’s attention towards the source of his thoughts.

The rapid sound of gravel crunching under feet was followed by a light, familiar snickering from Jensen. It was borderline a squeal, filled to the brim with amused hyperactivity. Chuckling to himself, Jeff watched from his spot a few feet from the front porch’s steps. Megan was darting across the driveway with a garden hose-wielding Jensen toddling in tow.    

‘‘Quit it, you Lil’ bug!’’ Meg screeched.

She was as melodramatic as always, dancing just out of the light sprinkle that the hose produced, probably playing up to emit further laughs from Jensen. After all, Jeff had lowered the water pressure a while ago, back when he and Meg finished hosing soapsuds off his and Jared’s newly washed cars. He’d only left the water on a slow flow due to Jensen’s clear entertainment of using the hose to try and water the plants at the front of the house, or hose down the shiny rims of Jeff’s Impala.

Now, it appeared Jensen had found entertainment elsewhere by fruitlessly chasing Megan. The little guy was beaming behind his pacifier, completely at ease and giggling throatily. Jensen’s simple outfit of a short-sleeved bodysuit and elasticated shorts looked beyond soaked while the boy’s target, Meg, remained damp at best.

Huffing in amusement, Jeff shifted his attention away from the boisterous pair and towards his husband, Jared. The younger male in question had plopped himself down on the front porch steps, having returned from indoors with a tray full of icy, frothy fruit smoothies. Jeff didn’t need to think twice about gaining a brief respite from the sun’s hot rays, and happily plonked himself down on the step beside the long-haired male.

Jared barely blinked at his company, his focus solely on tapping away at his cell phone.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Jared was occupied with. Jeff knew, without a doubt, that his husband was probably searching for community college subjects available to Megan when she eventually returned to Texas. Meg made it clear she wasn’t going to be staying in the Padalecki-Morgan household any longer than a week. For all that she sought to briefly escape from living with her eldest brother’s family in Texas, she wished to return to them: San Antonio was her home.

Either way, Jared seemed to be taking what time left of his baby sister’s visit as his personal goal to find her something enjoyable to pursue as a career. Jeff was certain that if he had to sit through one more meal with his husband coaxing Megan into looking at online courses, he’d grab Jensen and opt to eat elsewhere for some peace. Nevertheless, Jeff let out a sigh, eyeing his husband’s furrowed brow of concentration.

Knocking his elbow against Jared’s knee, Jeff spoke up. ‘‘Not everyone wants to go to college, babe.’’

‘‘Huh?’’ Jared’s head snapped up. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘You,’’ he nodded towards the iPhone in Jared’s hands, ‘‘lookin’ at college courses for Meg. Stop it.’’

‘‘Oh.’’ Jared blinked, face blank, before quickly adding, ‘‘right. Yeah. Okay.’’

The response didn’t feel right, causing Jeff to frown. Jared had been pretty subdued most of today when not entertaining or seeing to Jensen; Jeff had merely thought his husband was tired after their interrupted sleep and processing their Little One’s words. It wasn’t unusual for Jared to slip into quiet moods when mentally occupied, yet Jeff had assumed the Padalecki male’s mind had been focused on getting Meg sorted in his typical, overbearing yet brotherly way…

Until, now.

‘‘You’re not looking at colleges, are you?’’ Jeff asked, blunt but worried.

Jared didn’t need to verbally answer when his hangdog expression said enough. Instantly, Jeff dropped a hand onto the other man’s knee, squeezing lightly in an encouraging manner. They _never_ kept secrets. Well, not for long or important ones. But, whatever had Jared glued to that phone most of the day must’ve been important.

‘‘What is – ’’ he started to probe, only to be interjected by the tell-tale sound of someone (someone Little, that is,) falling on gravel.

Within an instant, Jared was up and leaving their conversation before Meg’s muttered _‘‘crap,’’_ reached Jeff’s ears. No sudden howls of pain from Jensen’s tumble onto the rough ground followed though. If anything, the little man was shocked from his fallen spot on the floor, his foot caught around the garden hose and pacifier dangling by the strap attached to his clothes, his chin wobbling dangerously.

Like magic, Jared chased the possibility of further upset and shed tears away from their boy with a quick hug and softly spoken words. Jensen’s barely there sniffles dissolved into sheepish smiles and snuffly sniggers under Jared’s actions of planting loud, wet-sounding kisses to the side of their baby’s face.

Jeff continued to watch, feeling more than a little anxious at his husband’s behavior. He quashed down the uneasy feeling, gearing himself to join his family and address his concerns later – when he spotted Jared’s forgotten phone.

Naturally, he picked the item up from its spot beside the tray of smoothies. A singular swipe and three taps later he brought up the internet application Jared had undoubtedly been using, his eyes zeroing in on the numerous tabs and searches that had preoccupied the majority Jared’s attention today.

The slow bloom of anxiety in Jeff’s chest vanished quicker than smoke. It was, instead, replaced with a sad trickle of understanding as to what had been plaguing his other-half’s thoughts.

‘‘Damn idiot,’’ Jeff found himself hissing.

* * *

Something was… _off_.

Jensen couldn’t place his finger on it, but something wasn’t quite right with his Daddies. At first, he thought maybe telling them about Donna’s habit of digging her manicured talons into his arms had made the two older men jittery. Like, maybe, they were nervous of upsetting him, or something.

He supposed it was akin to some of the nicer foster-parents of his past. Some folk tended to treat foster kids like glass even before knowing their backstory, assuming that basic discipline would break even the brattiest of kids. Jensen mused that, after his crying session and momentary clinginess upon waking, this was probably why Jared seemed a little tense when he thought Jensen wasn’t paying attention.

Jeff, his papa, had seemed the same as always. At least, until after Jensen’s clumsiness of tripping over the garden hose called to an end of an impromptu water-fight with Meg. It was some point after that in which he noticed both his Daddies were acting weird. They both had fleeting, whispered talks when Jensen was presumed to be distracted and, when finally noticing his attention, quickly stopped.

It was happening again, now.                                                                                                 

Jensen could never make out what they were saying, their voices were too hushed. Yet, as soon as he re-entered their sights or got close enough, the pair of older males instantly stopped their conversation. He’d barely stepped out of the sliding patio doors, one bare foot touching the sun-warmed wood of the backyard’s deck, when Jeff spotted him and nudged Jared to stop talking.

A heavy weight settled in Jensen’s stomach, leaving him to halt in his tracks of re-joining his daddies out in the warm evening air. Moments ago, the three of them had all been sitting on the outdoor loveseat, reading books and cuddling while enjoying the light summer night. Jensen had squirmed down after a while, however. He’d ran back inside to collect his bunny and dog, having previously forgotten them in the living room, having left his fuzzy companions there around bath time.

The soft creak of wicker indicated movement as Jeff sat forward, snagging his attention. Jensen stayed still, a trickle of foreboding entering his system at Jared’s pained expression. Jeff, on the other hand, stretched out his arms, looking as calm as ever, save the stiffness of his broad shoulders.

‘‘C’mere, buddy,’’ Jeff coaxed, smile faint. ‘‘Daddy and I need to have a little talk with you.’’

‘‘Did…did I do bad?’’ the words left Jensen in a quiet rush, childishly put together with nerves.

Jared’s expression instantly smoothed out. ‘‘No, baby boy. Not at all.’’

Sliding one foot forward, ever so slowly, Jensen tightened his stubby arms around the necks of his plushies. After a beat, his other foot followed to fall in line beside his other foot, his green eyes shifting between the pair. He wanted nothing more than to ask if he was in trouble, but it didn’t seem to fit the current situation. Both men always said how good he was. In fact, they’d both been happy at the lack of fuss he’d made an hour or so ago during an earlier-than-usual bath.

Still… the only thing that his caregivers would likely want to talk to him about was last night, (or early morning). It was a topic Jensen thought they wouldn’t have to touch upon again. He’d told them all he needed, didn’t he?

‘‘You are far from being in trouble,’’ Jeff added.

‘‘P’omise?’’ Jensen wondered, his teeth clamping down on the pacifier’s teat.

‘‘Promise and swear down,’’ Jared quickly assured.

Jeff shared a look at his husband before returning his gaze to Jensen. ‘‘Daddy is just being very silly about something, but we promise. C’mon, Lil’ man. C’mere.’’

Unsure and nervous, but not frightened, Jensen closed the distance between himself and his daddies. The moment he was within reach, Jared was scooping him up and placing him back within his previous spot within the nest of blankets atop the wicker loveseat’s cushions, wedged between Jeff and Jared. Only then, did the duo begin alternating between delivering Jensen extremely soft, sappy expressions and silently looking at each other.

It was a painfully tense few seconds before Jeff huffed, breaking the silence, and reached across Jensen to grab the cell phone beside Jared’s thigh. A few clicks and swipes, and Jeff held the item out to the smallest of the trio. It took a few seconds for Jensen to get with the program, his arms finally loosening their hold to let go of Honey and Blue, and carefully hold and _look_ at Jared’s phone.

The screen showed an open webpage, one Jensen had never seen before. The layout and words, however, looked familiar enough. He’d seen a similar set-up before, many years ago, when he’d been incredibly stupid and younger…and ventured into using a local library’s computer to do an internet search akin to Jared’s own.

_FOUND 43 MATCHES FOR : **J.** **ACKLES**._

Jensen felt his breath catch and stomach cramp at the sight upon the cell phone. It made him sick, seeing the long list of alphabetized names that carried his surname. He’d done this same search during his last year in the foster system in a bid to seek out his brother, Josh, and gain contact. But, that had gone _horribly wrong_ and –

‘‘Why?’’ Jensen’s voice cracked something awful.

‘‘I – well, I just thought, with you mentioning your brother…’’ Jared released a huge sigh, sounding lost.

Thankfully, Jeff picked up where Jared left off. ‘‘He thought having Meg here reminded you of Josh and that you probably haven’t seen him in a long while. Right, Jay?’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Jared nodded, hazel eyes earnest. ‘‘I just wanted you to know that, even if you are our baby, we’d support you if you wanted to see or get in touch with your – uh – other family members. Not your parents. Definitely not them, but maybe Josh? If you wanted.’’

Jeff flung an arm across his husband’s shoulders, tugging him (and by extension, Jensen) closer. Jostled and entirely pressed up against both larger men’s sides, Jensen continued to feel shaky and sweaty at the revealed information, oblivious to the soft utterances of comfort happening between the married pair above his head.

This, the smallest of the trio noted, was what had Jared and Jeff acting weird.

Oh, Jensen was scared.

And more than a touch angry.  Biting down, he encountered the soft skin of his lower lip as opposed to his pacifier. His source of comfort must’ve fell out, but it didn’t matter. The slight jolt of pain from biting too hard on his lip snapped him out of his shocked daze and rocketed him into action.

‘‘No!’’ Jensen shouted, his voice stupidly hoarse and thick. The two men at his sides jumped. ‘‘No! I don’t want to find or meet him!’’

The pair of them, the two men he’d come to love in the most awkward of circumstances and viewed as parents looked beyond bewildered.

‘‘…what?’’ Jared mumbled, looking even more troubled.

‘‘No,’’ Jensen repeated, slightly less heated. ‘‘I don’t want – I – ’’ he floundered, fists clenched. ‘‘I don’t want anything to do with Josh!’’

‘‘Okay, okay, no Josh.’’ Jeff was quick to reply, his hands already reaching for him.

Jensen wriggled away, narrowly falling onto the floor, in an effort to face the pair of them. In his burst of emotion, he needed to get them to understand that Josh was just as unwanted as his biological parents. Obviously, last night, he hadn’t been clear enough surrounding how he felt about Josh. Jensen had merely wished to let Jeff and Jared know of his mother’s fondness of subtle injury and Josh’s existence – he had not expected any further action on the subject, let alone have his so-called Daddy seek Josh out via an internet search.

A soft shushing sound and a tickle of breath ghosted against Jensen’s left ear directed his focus. He must’ve momentarily blanked out…because he was suddenly in Jared’s lap, gasping for breath with Jeff’s hand rubbing his back in big, long strokes.

‘‘Josh – ’’ Jensen fails to speak, stalling with anger and upset. They need to know Josh is just as much as a dick as his biological parents, only for an entirely different reason. ‘‘He’s – he’s – ’’

He’s failing to eject words, but he’s got plenty to say: horrible, manipulative, just as twisted as their biological parents. A massive liar. Jensen doesn’t want anything to do with Josh. The mere idea that they’ve possibly contacted Josh –

‘‘No, no. We haven’t contacted anyone, Jensen. ’’

Jared’s voice, desperately apologetic yet firm, cuts through the panicky, irate mist clouding Jensen’s mind. Jensen can’t recall speaking the latter of his frustrations aloud, but he must’ve choked out enough words for Jared to say that. It’s beyond a relief to hear, though. Knowing the two men he’d come to trust and love, his daddies, hadn’t betrayed him by misplaced good intentions was like a dash of cold water: it instantly snapped Jensen from teetering on the edge of a panic attack, dousing the building fire of anger and fear.

‘‘There we go,’’ Jeff was steadily cajoling, ‘‘big breaths and listen to Daddy, sweetheart. No Josh. We’ve only looked online, no contact.’’

Jensen lets out a quivery reply. ‘‘Ruh-r- _really?_ ’’

‘‘Oh, baby. Yes, really,’’ Jared replied, voice rough with emotion. ‘‘I’m sorry. I… I was bein’ an idiot, sweetpea. I misunderstood our lil’ talk last night and my silly brain ran away with me.’’

‘‘We wanted to check in with you before doing _anything_ further, kiddo,’’ Jeff reassured, cupping Jensen’s face.

Sniffling, Jensen looked into the sincere brown eyes of his papa. Unable to speak, he offered a wobbly nod of understanding as the hands holding his face fell away. A hiccup suddenly followed, leaving Jensen’s chest with a surprise jolt that had Jeff looking less fraught and offering a small, worn smile at him.

‘‘Papa and I would _never_ make such an important and big decision without asking you first,’’ Jared spoke up, sounding downright tearful.

Blinking past the lingering blur of tears, Jensen peers up at the recent speaker. For all that Jensen placed his panicky anger towards Jared, he wasn’t mad or worried now. He trusted them and their words, and if they said they there was no effort made to contact _any_ J. Ackles, then he believed them. Completely.

And yet… spotting the minor dampness of Jared’s eyes set something off in Jensen’s chest.

‘‘D-Dun cry, Daddy!’’ it came out as a horrified squall, but Jensen didn’t care how he sounded.

He hadn’t seen Jared or Jeff look so weepy since the early days of his arrival in their home, when _they_ had opened up to _him_. There was something terribly guilty upon knowing Daddy’s tears were over Jensen’s stupid reaction – he just panicked! – over being shown the search list of names. Maybe it was the lingering shock coupled with relief at knowing Josh wouldn’t be entering the picture, or the blooming shame at not giving his daddies time to explain before freaking out, but Jensen let out a sob.

 ‘‘Pa-ah-pa,’’ Jensen hiccupped. ‘‘Papa, Daddy i-is – !’’

‘‘He’s not crying, sunshine,’’ Papa soothes him, before shooting Daddy a half-smile. ‘‘At least, not anymore.’’

Daddy gives a sniff – a _big sniff_ , the type of sniff Jensen does when he ugly cries – and half-heartedly shoulder’s Papa. Jensen sniffles, too, suddenly aware of his very drippy nose. He continues to stare at both of his parents, uneasy yet far calmer, as they share some sort of look. Whatever that look does or says is only a second or so long, but it has them both visibly relaxing and huddling closer… until Jensen’s hiccup-induced body tremor catches them off guard.

They laugh. Daddy and Papa, that is. It’s a snuffly rough sort of snort-chuckle of released tension, and then Jensen finds his face assaulted with a smattering of kisses from the pair of them on either side of his face. Papa’s beard tickles and Jensen rubs at the spot before the hairy man can dive back for more kisses. Daddy, however, stops his own smattering of soft kisses to press a final kiss atop Jensen’s head, not really moving away, but resting his lips against golden-brown strands.

It is then, practically talking into Jensen’s hair, that Daddy repeats a promise.

‘‘Super important stuff will always be discussed, okay? We’d never do something so serious without talkin’ to our Jensey first.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind words and support have left me flabbergasted and beyond thankful. I'll be replying to previous comments once I can sit down to do so.


	23. Chapter 23

Joshua Ackles, Jeff concludes, is an ass.

He’s not alone with such a conclusion – Jared, his better half and complete softie of a husband, entirely agrees with Jeff’s private confession of wanting to feed another member of the Ackles family their teeth via a satisfying punch. They don’t tell Jensen their dark desires of retribution, of course, and Jared hastily mentions hope that karma will bite Josh on the ass one day. Yet, in spite of such hopes, the image of decking the unknown Ackles sibling squarely in the face is a thought that says with Jeff for a good, long while.

It’s hard not to, really, considering the short but sad tale Jensen later told him and Jared a few evenings back.

Finding out that Josh Ackles had, for all intents and purposes, manipulated and used his fresh-out-of-foster-care little brother set Jeff on edge with over-protective anger. Jensen had been strangely blunt in explaining how years ago, he sought out contacting Josh during the end of his stay at a group home. Hearing their little boy refer to himself as ‘stupid’ for following his older brother’s actions made Jeff’s blood boil. His and Jared’s little fella was _far_ from stupid; he was bright and ridiculously caring. Jensen wasn’t at fault for believing Josh’s words all those years ago.  
  
A little too trusting at the time, yes, but not stupid.  
  
Clearly Jensen had been eager to forge a family connection with the only member he had fond childhood memories of. Blind with hope and longing, Jensen met up with Josh a handful of times; conversing and catching up. Whatever minimal earnings or savings Jensen had gained through the years was happily handed over to Josh under the guise of ‘help’, or guilt.

Because Josh had travelled _all the way_ from Alabama to Jensen’s Arizona group home, and he needed ‘just a few dollars’ to pay for a motel. Then, there was the false promises of help. Josh promised Jensen a new start, something about having friends in Nevada (well away from their parents) that could set both brothers up with jobs and a place to stay… Ah, _but_ Jensen needed to front up some cash for rent. Then, there was the money Jensen had to pay for a bus ticket to get there. A bus ticket that Josh had urged to let Jensen collect for him if he handed over the cost.

From what Jeff gathered, Josh had taken Jensen for a ride, simply for money.  
  
By the time Jensen aged out of foster care, what little money he had was gone along with his brother. It was sad, really. Jensen had been left with nothing, save a lone, unapologetic voicemail from his so-called sibling, and tried to carry on. Jensen had sounded so, so embarrassed at how better work brought him to California at age nineteen, only to have that fail and eventually leave him homeless, barely able to afford to tend to basic needs.

Finally gaining answers made Jeff sick with anger, even days after the talk itself. He and Jared and talked, late at night in the privacy of their own bedroom about vile excuse of a family biologically linked to Jensen. It didn’t solve the twisty feeling in Jeff’s chest, but they had agreed not to dwell on issues that they couldn’t fix.

Jeff wondered _how_   his husband (the ultimate over-thinker) wasn’t brooding over the injustice of it all…

‘‘Papa?’’

Flinching with surprise, Jeff almost dropped the shirt he had been hanging up in his and Jared’s wardrobe. The soft, tell-tale call of his favorite name came from Jensen, obviously, and Jeff hastened to regard said baby boy. He flung the shirt over an already occupied clothes-hanger and turned in the direction the voice came from, only to gain another surprise.

Jensen was…well, he was covered in flour, for starters.

The rest was a blend of colored frosting, varied colors of smeared food dye, chocolate and, possibly, rainbow sprinkles. Jeff chuckled, astonished yet amused, as he spotted dough in Jensen’s hair when the Modified male tottered forwards, clad only in a diaper and grey, sleeveless undershirt. Baking with Jared and Meg might’ve not been a good idea, after all.But it was hard to get upset with (more than) a little mess, especially when Jensen seemed to be delightfully happy.

Jeff dropped to his knees, ready to embrace the messy little critter he called his son, when he noticed Jensen was holding the front of his own shirt up by the hem, revealing a sliver of his rounded belly over a loose-looking diaper, while shuffling closer. Something was stored in the tiny hammock the shirt created from the way it was being held, acting like a kangaroo-like pouch. It must’ve been something precious enough that his mucky pup was looking over his shoulder, back towards the hallway, before smiling timidly up at Jeff.

‘‘Papa…’’ Jensen whispered, acting adorably secretive. ‘‘Papa…’’ he held out the end of his shirt further, revealing a horde of cookies amongst the folds of cotton, ‘‘… _look_.’’

‘‘Oh, wow,’’ Jeff replied, keeping up the hushed tone. ‘‘Are those dinosaur-shaped sugar cookies?’’

‘‘Yuh,’’ the little one beamed. ‘‘J-Jensen’s dino’s.’’

‘‘Aw, no dino cookies for Papa?’’ he pretended to sulk, producing a pout.

Freeing up a hand, Jensen grabbed a garishly red-frosted T-Rex, and held it within his mouth. Only then did his little guy fish around in his cookie collection, moving aside a blue frosted long-neck dinosaur of sorts to reveal two overly large chocolate-chip cookies. Jensen knocked the chocolate-chips aside to grab a hold of an equally large cookie of a darker brown variety.

With his mouth occupied, Jensen extended the dark cookie with his hand with a triumphant (albeit muffled) chirrup. ‘‘’or Pa!’’

‘‘For Papa?’’ Jeff asked, gently taking the proffered cookie.

‘‘Un!’’

Jensen nodded enthusiastically, dislodging a few sprinkles from his hair. Jeff found himself grinning and, recognizing Jared’s famed molasses-spiced cookie within his hand, noisily took a big bite. His playful, messy action produced a full on, hearty laugh from his and Jared’s boy. So much so that the cookie in Jensen’s mouth fell back down into the folds of his shirt.

‘‘Mmm!’’ Jeff sounded out, producing more infectious giggles from this wonderfully intelligent and kind-hearted little being…

A being that unknowingly crushed Jeff’s previous, angry brooding over certain dickheads of the Ackles variety.  
  
In that moment, Jeff understood how Jared had stopped dwelling on the information Jensen unveiled to them days prior. It was easy to let go of ugly feelings when they were aimed at people who truly _didn’t matter_ , especially when they had such an adorably bright baby boy to focus on.

Uncaring of the mess of baking products that littered Jensen’s body and face, Jeff shifted forward and blew a noisy raspberry into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Near deafening squeals followed, tapering off into a giggly mess. Pulling back, he dropped his forehead against Jensen’s smaller, stickier one and looked directly into mossy-green eyes before striking up a deal.

‘‘How ‘bout you give Papa that blue dino, and we’ll pretend I didn’t know that you stole these cookies away from Daddy and Meg?’’

* * *

Meg’s going away.

She’s going to the airport tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon, if Jensen recalls correctly. Back ‘home’ is what Megan and Daddy says, back to San Antonio to be with Daddy’s big brother, JR: a section of family Jensen had only briefly seen through a computer screen, not in person. It’s weird to know he’s going to have to say bye, just when he has gotten used to having ‘Aunt Meggy’ around. She’s pretty fun when not arguing with his daddies, often sneaking Jensen cookies before dinner time and finding awesome animated movies to watch. He’ll be a little sad to see Meg go, even though he’s been reminded that they’d see each other soon enough.

Still, he’s got the rest of the day and tomorrow morning to spend with Meg if he wants to.

Jensen might’ve just woken up from his mid-morning nap but, as dozy and fuzzy as his mind is upon waking, even he knows what time is left is super, super long. Sadly, Jensen doesn’t think he will have a chance to be in Meg’s presence today. His daddies, Jeff and Jared, had organized a gathering with a few friends and the usual group that had been christened as family to wish a safe journey to Megan. Jensen knows who the latter group includes –  namely fellow Little Ones by the names of Danneel, Sandy, Chris and Steve – and he has a feeling that he’s going to be preoccupied with them and their rowdy parents who are so keen to interact with him.

Either way, Jensen stops thinking of dreaded social activities and finds himself sleepily recalling the huge mixture of cookies he had helped Daddy and Meg make yesterday. They’d been made for today’s gathering, of course. Those along with other foodstuffs… but it is definitely the buttery-sweet treats that has him smacking his lips.

Brief snoozes always did make him wake-up hungry.

Jensen doubts he’d find any cookies in his current spot atop the nursey’s changing table, though, so he’s left to focus on _trying_ to fully waking up. It’s a hard task to do when sleep clings onto him so heavily. Jensen can only rub at his eye with one of Honey’s long ears and turn his head towards the person near his feet.

It’s Daddy, of course. Daddy who is Jared and is busy with closing the crotch-snaps of Jensen’s white, sleeveless bodysuit. As soon as that is done, Jared’s large hands encompass his post-sleep pliant limbs, slipping them into clothing. Jensen’s aware that his daddy is talking to him, and half-listening to Daddy’s soft coos sharpens Jensen’s focus. He’s not so sleepy upon being wrangled into a soft pair of khaki shorts and, by the time he’s pulled up, Jared’s completed his outfit by slipping a blue plaid shirt onto Jensen, leaving it unbuttoned.

It takes a moment, but from his seated spot Jensen takes note of one thing. As silly as it is, noticing that he and Jared are wearing a similar attire of shorts, plaid blue shirt and white undershirt has Jensen humming in approval. Sure, Daddy’s not wearing a diaper or shorts with an elasticated waist, but their shorts and shirt are the same colors.

Jensen grins around the thumb that’s tucked into his mouth, letting go of Honey’s ear to grasp at the plaid blue of Jared’s shirt. ‘‘‘addy, ‘ame!’’ he cheerily points out, tugging the material for emphasis.

‘‘Yeah, you look the same as Daddy,’’ Jared gets that soft, besotted look on his face. The one that makes Jensen happy but squirmy. ‘‘My baby boy is _sooo_ handsome!’’

Blushing at the compliment, Jensen wished he kept quiet. He wouldn’t say _that_.

‘‘Let me just do this – ’’ Jared’s continuing to beam, hands busy once again, this time with clipping a rainbow paci-strap onto Jensen’s shirt ‘‘ – and we can go join everyone!’’

Jensen doesn’t think twice about grumbling. It’s been a while since he’s seen his fellow little ‘cousins’ and Aunt or Uncles. Then, of course, there is others who should be showing up – like Genevieve. Jensen hadn’t seen her since bawling his eyes out, back when Meg first showed up. Nevertheless, being around other people will always be a touch overwhelming for him, Jensen supposes. Plus, it’s different when having people in _his_ home, with _his_ daddies, and _his_ things…

Oh. He sounds stupidly possessive.

Not that he means to be. It’s just – well, it’s just a new experience. Hosting people at their home means Jensen can’t ask Papa or Daddy to take him home when he’s already there. He has no escape plan, that’s all.

A warm kiss is pressed between his eyebrows, and Jensen stops thinking.

‘‘C’mon, sweetpea,’’ Daddy scoops him and Honey-bunny up. ‘‘We’ll get you somethin’ to drink and then it’s time to socialize.’’

Jensen promptly plugs his pacifier into his mouth in preparation. It makes Daddy laugh and say something about his expression being way too serious for 'fun times'. 

 

* * *

 

‘‘Chris, stop being a little monster to Sandy!’’  
  
‘‘ – so Milo’s finally been promoted at the bank.’’

‘‘Listen to Poppa, Danneel. Stop taking off your –’’

The place is alive with adults and boisterous, Modified Little Ones. An indignant screech cuts through the air, blending amongst the snippets of mixed conversations or laughter. It’s _hectic_ and _noisy_ in the backyard. So much so that Jared can hear all this mayhem through the open windows of the kitchen he’s standing in. It takes a few moments of his idle listening from afar for a singular realization to dawn within his mind:

He’d had _forgotten_ what a usual gathering in his and Jeff’s home was like.

Jared’s only a touch ashamed of the fact that he had forgotten how much noise and fun having the whole gang around produced. Hearing Sandy wailing over an enforced time-out, or the overly boisterous play between Danneel and Chris had been just as much as a common background noise as hearing his husband’s good-natured bickering with Sam. Once upon a time, hosting casual meet-ups (or the odd party) with their friends and created family had been ingrained as a weekly occurrence.

Yet, all that had been before Jensen.

Their friends had patiently gave them space while getting Jensen settled. Unbeknownst to the adults involved, the stretch of months of the majority of Jared and Jeff’s time surrounded by their own shy Little One had changed things. Jared had grown accustomed to Jensen’s quieter style of communication over what he and his husband were used to in regarding their nieces or nephews. There were giddy little squeals, yes, but the majority of noise Jensen produced happened to be soft huffs, infectious giggles and a few adorable words.

Whatever the case, Jared found it nice to have everyone (noise be damned) around again.

‘‘Ah, there you two are. ’’

It’s a stupidly tranquil yet amused greeting. It makes Jensen jump a little in his arms, surprised. Jared pauses in his rummage through the refrigerator to pat his baby’s bottom. He doesn’t need to turn his head to know the speaker is.

‘‘Hey, Misha,’’ Jared says, quickly returning to his search in the fridge. ‘‘Sorry I wasn’t here when y’all arrived, I was takin’ a nap with Jensey. My oh-so-forgetful husband was supposed to wake us up in time.’’

‘‘Don’t worry, we haven’t been here long,’’ Misha explains, sounding as cheerful as ever. ‘‘Milo and Alona only showed up a few seconds ago.’’

Jared laughs a little, knowing full well Milo and Alona were notorious for running late to _any_ event. Average lateness for Sandy’s parents alternated anywhere between forty to sixty minutes.  What they got distracted doing to not show up on time, Jared never asked after the tenth time of watching his friends stroll in late.

‘‘How is our Jenny-bean?’’ Misha carries on. He must be pulling a funny face at Jared’s back, because said ‘Jenny-bean’ in Jared’s arm lets out a shy, giggly-sort of sound. ‘‘So smiley today, aren’t you, kiddo?’’

‘‘We’ll see,’’ is all that Jared murmurs.

The floppy-haired Padalecki refuses to crush Misha’s assumption. Jensen was still warming up to everyone, but Jared wouldn’t be surprised if his baby boy wasn’t the social butterfly everyone expected him to be. Either way, Jared _finally_ finds what he was looking for in the fridge amongst the overly full shelves of prepared food. How the small, stubby bottle of peach flavoured water got shoved to the back of the refrigerator is a mystery.

Such a question hardly matters when eager little hands reach out for the chilly bottle. Jared manages to slip the protective lid off the bottle’s nipple in time for Jensen to grab ahold. It’s rather adorable to see Jensen attempt to drink when the baby in question has yet to remove the pacifier between his lips. After a brief scowl, Jensen seems to catch on and, with suddenly ruddy cheeks, spits out his pacifier to hastily suck down some cool liquid within the bottle.

Misha and Jared are still laughing lightly at the Little One’s reaction when they leave the kitchen together. They barely reach the threshold of the living room when Jared finds one of his legs assaulted by a tiny red-head. Danneel, Mike and Tom’s feisty little girl, is pushing against Jared’s legs in a bid to get past.

‘‘Un'le Jay!’’ she yelps, breathless from activity. ‘‘Y’gotta hide me!’’

Why she needs to be hidden is obvious; Jared can hear Mike calling for her to come back outside. Even how Danni is dressed, or her lack of dress, hints at what she is probably in trouble for: stripping off her clothes.

It was an old phase Jared had thought Danneel’s daddies had broken. Clearly, given the fact she was standing in nothing but a purple, floral tank-top, completely bare below the waist, the habit had resurfaced. Nakedness and Littles came hand-in-hand. Bare skin was nothing, in Jared’s opinion. He knew most of his fellow parents felt the same when nakedness was a common occurrence; a quick, semi-public diaper or clothing change.  
  
Or, in Danni’s case, a moment of liberation.

‘‘I don’t think so, petal,’’ Jared tries to sound firm in spite of finding it hilarious. ‘‘Why don’t we go back outside and get you into a diaper?’’

Danneel puffs up, affronted. ‘‘No diapers, Uncle Jay! I’m’a wear pull-ups now.’’

She’s too preoccupied to notice one of parents’ approach. Tom all but sneaks up on the half-naked girl after slinking through the patio doors and further into the living room. Jared can hear Misha laughing way before Danni gets scooped up by her curly-haired father, expertly captured.

‘‘P-Poppa, no!’’ Danneel shrieks with annoyance. ‘‘Lemme down!’’

‘‘Poppa, _yes_ ,’’ Tom patiently corrects.

‘‘Want Daddy!’’

‘‘Daddy is looking for wherever you tossed your shorts,’’ Tom mumbles a reply. ‘‘Sorry, Jared,’’ he looks downright dejected, ‘‘We were givin’ pull-ups a trial run, until now. No more pull-ups. Danni’s been doing this all week, I think she just likes how easy they are to take off.’’

‘‘S’fun!’’ Danni chimes in.

Misha chuckles at the girl. ‘‘I’m sure it is, sweetheart.’’

‘‘I’m sure the chasing game that follows is even more fun,’’ Jared notes. After all, Danneel is hardly upset at the prospect of returning back to diapers any more than she is at getting caught by Tom. She’s smiling, wide and mischievous, from her father’s arms.

At least, until she finally pays Jensen some attention.

‘‘J’sen’s face is red, Poppa,’’ says literally points out, jabbing a finger toward the baby curled in Jared’s arms. ‘‘He looks like’a cherry.’’

Looking down at the boy in his arms, Jared had to agree.  
  
Jensen wide-eyed and red-faced with what is probably second-hand embarrassment over Danni’s publicly naked state. His and Jeff’s poor baby is so ultra-self-conscious at times that it is almost painful. Jared knows it’ll be a matter of time for Jensen to get used to certain adult baby aspects such as the understanding skin was skin, and being naked wasn’t anything remotely sexual or shameful. He could remember the early days of getting Jensen used to diaper changes or co-bathing with him and Jeff…

Alas, for the time being, Jared was left with seeing the endearing reaction of Jensen clutching the bottle to his chest, the nipple grazing his bottom lip as he gawks up at Jared, almost silently asking: _‘‘we call these crazy folk ‘family’?’’_

 

* * *

The small gathering of created family and close friends at their home makes Jensen super clingy.

Jeff can’t blame his and Jared’s baby boy; their last meeting at Sam’s had lacked the usual, hectic air and unruly atmosphere that tended to surround having numerous Little Ones under the same roof. If anything, the barbeque at Sam’s had been mild – or, at least, extremely well behaved. Of course there had been small hiccups, be it Jensen’s uncertainty or Sandy’s cold shoulder towards the newest baby, but the past event had ran rather smoothly.

Today’s gathering, however, was more the usual style of having family and Littles around. The whole gang, plus Katie, Genevieve and Jim, had been at the Padalecki-Morgan residence for less than an hour and the common (disruptive) occurrences had started to happen… Steve accidentally dumped the contents of his big brother’s sippy cup down his new shirt. Sandy and Chris had managed to enter a squabble over some of Jensen’s toys that ended in a near brawl. Oh, and Danneel had shucked off the lower portion of her clothing.

Luckily enough, Alona had found the little girl’s denim shorts scrunched up in the flower beds. The pull-up, Jeff noted, had yet to be found. He had a feeling he’d come across the discarded item soon enough, also telling himself to be thankful it had probably been unused. Still, throughout all this mayhem, Jeff grinned. It was _good_ to have the gang around again, like old times.

Only, this time it was better – because him and Jared were no longer reserved as the ‘Fun Uncles’, but fellow parents. There was a regained sense of normalcy of having their handpicked family and friends around. Jeff knew the Little Ones had missed the weekly gatherings at his and Jared’s home. Now, with Jensen far more settled, their previous weekly meet-ups could re-enter the routine Jeff and Jared had before Jensen’s arrival.

‘‘Nuh- _noh_. No.’’

Ah, that is, assuming Jensen didn’t mind the addition to his routine.

Jeff didn’t need to look towards the direction of such soft grumbling to know it was _his_ baby boy. Still, he briefly shifted his focus from the conversation being led by Vicki to glance at Jensen. He felt his lips twitch at the event happening a few feet away from one of the many seats upon the deck he occupied with several others.

‘‘Go play,’’ Megan seemed to be saying. She stood on the decking’s last step, patiently trying to extract Jensen off her hip and onto the lawn. ‘‘Go on, go have fun with your cousins.’’

Jensen merely said his favourite word. Again. ‘‘No.’’

‘‘Y _esss_ ,’’ she drew the word out with an exhaled hiss before injecting false enthusiasm, ‘‘Go play. Jensen’ll have lots and lots of fun!’’

Even from his spot, Jeff could see the pleading, big green eyes Jensen produced the moment Meg successfully detached him. There was an instinctual need to get his ass up and go comfort the little boy, but Jeff refrained. He stamped that knee-jerk reaction to intervene and, instead, stayed put. They – himself, Jared and half of the adults Jensen had spent his time clinging to – had been trying to coax Jensen into playing with his eager cousins since their arrival. It was like that first meeting all over again: Jensen was somewhat fine with adults, but unsure about fellow Little Ones.

Although, Jeff supposed that it probably didn’t help that Sandy’s grudge towards the new baby was still present.

‘‘Go on, now,’’ Meg urged, nudging Jensen forward. ‘‘I promised Gen I’d look at her car’s engine. It’s playin’ up. Her and Katie are waitin’ out front. So, no puppy-dog eyes, _go play_.’’

Jeff found himself intrigued at that little tidbit from his sister-in-law. He didn’t think Megan knew anything about cars, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe the trio of young women were making up an excuse to escape for a break, Jeff wouldn’t blame them, Gen and Katie were close to Megan’s age and had met a few Christmases ago. Yet, before he could ponder any further on the subject, Megan was taking her chance to head towards the front yard, opting to head through the house while offering Jensen a series of waves. Jeff fully expected the Modified male’s chin to wobble, or a hasty run towards the deck (towards himself and Jared), but no.

No, Jensen stood still, awkwardly and obviously unsure, and toyed with his plush rabbit’s ears.

Then, Jeff was giving into his previously ignored need to comfort. Jensen looked so lost and nervous; so very much a little boy. Jeff was already rising out of his seat when Sam beat him to it. His sister in everything but blood had stopped chasing hyperactive Little Ones across the lawn with Misha to tap Jensen on the shoulder. Whatever was said was too quiet on Sam’s behalf, and Jeff was left with the side view of Jensen producing a hesitant smile behind his pacifier.

Dropping back down into his seat, Jeff was content to watch Sam successfully coax Jensen to hold her hand. Only then did the pair drift towards the noisy crowd occupying the lawn, closer to the buzz of activity taking place around a bubble machine that had been doing a fantastic job of entertaining the adult tots and babies. After some clear hesitance, (and frequent, nervous looks back towards Jeff and Jared), Jensen slowly got involved with his cousins.

Watching the light, gleeful bounce Jensen made upon popping several bubbles eased any worry or doubt in Jeff’s mind. All good things came with time. Jensen just needed a little extra time to get used to certain things, mainly socializing with the crazy hoard he and Jared branded as their family.

 

* * *

 

‘‘Baby Jenny, can I has a hold?’’

The gentle baby speak that Steve says is pretty soothing. Not too fast and not too loud. It’s far less overwhelming than Chris and the girls, Sandy and Danneel. Still, the question from Steve, combined with a pointed finger towards Honey, jangles Jensen’s nerves.

Honey is _his bunny_. 

Jensen has kept his strangle hold upon his favoured toy since waking up, and that felt like a long time ago. Never once, from alternating from Jim’s lap to Megan’s arms, did he let go of his companion. He didn’t let go of her when being dragged around by Danni during the unclear but extremely fun game of popping bubbles and avoiding The Tickle Monster(s). Even during the times his poor, toddling run got him caught by said Monsters (Auntie Sam and Uncle Misha),  Jensen didn’t let her go for long, always grasping onto one of her lengthy ears the moment she fell onto the grass.

An insistent hand patted his knee, snagging Jensen’s attention.

‘‘B-Bean?’’ Steve said.

Wrinkling his nose, Jensen was unsure over how to feel about that nickname. Silly Uncle Misha kept calling him Jenny-bean, which his so-called cousins had picked up on. How many times Jensen had been called the shorter term of ‘Bean’ today was painful amount to count. Danni _loved_ to keep saying the title; shrieking it loudly, clearly enjoying the way it sounded. Sandy, on the other hand, was the opposite, only ever calling him Jensen. Chris and Steve, like typical brothers, happily mimicked their mischievous father and wholly enjoyed using it at any opportunity.

Either way, Jensen’s silence and tightened hold on Honey was enough for Steve to draw his own conclusions. The other boy scratched at his lengthy mop of blonde hair with one of Jensen’s wooden blocks, all the while making an animated _hmm-_ ing noise. It lasted only for a moment but, once done, Steve began to smile and nod.

‘‘I know!’’ Steve chimed. ‘‘Tha’ bunny is Bean’s lovey.’’

Jensen didn’t know what a ‘lovey’ was, but he nodded.  
  
If agreeing with Steve meant Jensen didn’t have to share his Honey-bunny, then all was well. He already had to share and watch his other toys be played with by his fellow Littles. Daddy and Papa kept saying how _good_ and _kind_ he was with letting his cousins play with some of the toys that usually resided in the back of the living room. Thankfully, Jensen had yet to see anyone playing with his cherished bucket of plastic dinos, wooden trains and Grumpy Jim’s handcrafted farm set. He had a feeling Papa and Daddy put them somewhere safe, for the time being.

The mere idea of seeing the others playing with those particular favourites made something hot and irritable twist in Jensen’s tummy. Almost, but not quite as much, as it made him feel upon seeing Steve playing with his building blocks. In fact, the only reason Jensen had plopped himself beside Steve was because he didn’t want the other boy to ruin the expertly carved, wooden blocks made by his Papa’s own hand…

‘‘…Snoop is _my_ lovey,’’ Steve was happily babbling, gesturing briefly to a worn, toy dog that resided by a diaper bag at Auntie Vicki’s feet. ‘‘Momma an’ Daddy says loveys are s-spesh-al…special! Only for me. Or my brudda Chris. You don’t gotta share loveys.’’

Oh. Jensen blinked. That sounded like a good rule. Very good. Unsure if Steve would let such a rule apply to him and Honey, Jensen tentatively pointed at himself.

Steve bobbed his head, blue eyes alight. ‘‘An’ for Bean an’ his bunny.’’

Jensen loosened his hold on Honey, feeling less guarded over his furry friend. He gave a few sucks on his binky, thinking, before scooting along his diapered bottom. Jensen stopped the moment he was close enough to knock elbows with Steve, near enough to let the other Little to look, but not touch, at Honey. He didn’t want her to be snatched away, like many treasured items of Jensen’s past, during his stay at the less than nice foster homes. It was only then, ignoring the ecstatic noise Steve made and the way he plastered himself to Jensen’s side, did he introduce his plushie pal.

‘‘S’called Honey.’’

‘‘Hun-nee?’’ Steve sounded out.

Frowning slightly, Jensen nodded. That’s what he said, didn’t he?

‘‘Honey is only f’baby Jenny-bean,’’ the blue-eyed boy said sagely. ‘‘Like my Snoop, an’ Sandy’s lovey Nellie. An-and Danni’s Chuck.’’

It was nice to know he wasn’t alone with having a favourite plushie. Jensen had noticed the way Sandy toted a baby-pink elephant somewhat like Jensen did with Honey. The same could be said with how he’d spotted how quickly Danni stopped fussing during a quick diaper change upon being handed a toy raccoon. There was something so very normal regarding the behavior that made Jensen feel warm inside.

Although… Jensen could see Chris squeezing between the surrounding adults chairs, moving closer to his and Steve’s spot on a thick blanket placed upon the deck, somewhat in the middle of the clustered grown-up’s seats. Every Modified adult baby had their own favoured plushie, (or, in Steve’s words, ‘lovey’). It made Jensen wonder what Chris, the seemingly biggest ( well, eldest) of Little Ones, had akin to the rest of them.

‘‘C’ris?’’ Jensen tried to ask Steve. He didn’t like talking much, unless he had to. Everyone seemed fine with his minimal verbal communication and nobody today ever forced him. It was just nice to keep the soothing weight of his pacifier on his tongue. Still, he raised Honey, hinting, and hoped Steve understood what he meant.

Luckily enough, Steve seemed to be on the same wavelength.

‘‘He jus’ has his blankey as his lovey,’’ Steve softly explained, ‘‘Chris can’t sleep, ‘less he gots woobie. One time, Daddy an’ Momma left woobie at home when we spent t’night with Uncle Jay ‘n’ Jeff. Big brudda cried lots an’ lots – ’’

‘‘Shuddup!’’

The outraged interruption came from Chris, clearly. It was poor timing for Steve’s big brother to edge close enough to overhear their conversation. Obviously, talking about Chris’ comfort item was off limits. Probably due to embarrassment if Chris’ reddened features were anything to go by.

‘‘Not ‘pposed to say that!’’ Steve hollered back.

Chris puffed up, edging closer onto the picnic blanket. ‘‘Don’t tell baby Jenny lies!’’

‘‘M’not!’’

Jensen refused to jolt at the sudden loudness between the pair. Still, it was hard not too when Steve continued to hold him, unintentionally yelling down Jensen’s ear. He must’ve let out a noise, or his discomfort must’ve shown because, the next thing he knew, the Collins siblings stopped bickering. Maybe one of the surrounding grown-ups shot one them a warning glare – like earlier on, during his brief yet hyperactive play on the lawn, when Uncle Tom wagged his finger at Sandy when she told Jensen to go away for no reason.

It certainly would’ve made sense over so quickly the brother’s stopped their growing argument so quickly. That, and Chris’ sudden flurry of movement. The boy in question practically flew to Jensen’s unoccupied side, joining Steve with the clumsy hug-like hold, smooshing Jensen between them.

‘‘Leggo, Steve. You’s upsettin’ tha' baby,’’ Chris muttered, forcefully tucking Jensen’s head under his chin.

Steve pouted, but remained firm. ‘‘Nuh-uh.’’

Sighing behind his pacifier, Jensen guessed there were worse ways to be physically smothered. He kept his possessive hold upon Honey, hugging her to his chest as Chris and Steve continued their muted conversation. Jensen didn’t put up resistance at being manhandled by the pair, oddly content when they stopped squeezing him or jostling him too much. When they ceased their brief battle, Jensen found himself seated on a slant; one of Steve’s legs had wormed under him, setting him off-balance from where Jensen’s head had been tucked under Chris’ bony chin.

Chris’ lengthy brown hair tickled Jensen’s brow almost as much as Steve’s blonde hair did. The latter had opted to press the side of his face against Jensen’s, huddled closer to his back with chin on Jensen’s shoulder and one arm clamped around his waist, the other hand fisting the back of Chris’ shirt. The pair of them smelt an odd mix of lavender, grass and goldfish crackers…

Jensen told himself that he’d just rest his eyes until the novelty of whatever this clingy-cuddle-fest of sorts worn off.

 


	24. Chapter 24

‘‘It’s nice to see him interacting more, isn’t it?’’

 ‘‘Yeah,’’ Jared sighs happily. He’s fully aware of the warm, dopey grin that is dominating his face upon agreeing with Sam over Jensen. The woman might be gorging herself on celery and carrot sticks with an array of dips, but she is still as observant as ever. She, like Jared, have been idly keeping an eye on the trio of male Little Ones upon the picnic blanket nearby; watching the slow progression of Jensen’s response to Chris and Steve’s enforced cuddle session.

Jared had expected some whining and wriggling from Jensen the moment Chris began his typical ‘big brother’ attempts of control and comfort, especially given the fact it was tag-teamed with Steve’s copied actions. The pair of brother’s squabbled in their typical manner, never too serious, over how to cuddle the baby properly. Jensen didn’t get fussy, thankfully. Oh, he frowned and pouted a lot when being manhandled, but he didn’t whine. It was rather adorable, in Jared’s opinion, to watch the moment his baby boy finally relaxed, accepting his fate of being snuggled.

The icing on the cake was when the three of them flopped back onto the blanket, limbs still tangled and enforced cuddles continuing. Jared could see what would be happening before it occurred. The combination of being worn out from running around mingled with full tummies and warm weather had Jensen closing his eyes and, eventually, dropping off to sleep. Steve followed suit, yawning and clinging to his brother and Jensen, while Chris took a little longer to nod-off for an impromptu, late-noon nap.

Chris had been slipping off to sleep, burrowing his face into Jensen’s hair when Danni scampered along. The redhead said nothing, disturbing no one, as she plopped herself down, resting her head on Chris’ belly. She was out almost instantly during that moment…

And Jared has been watching the sleepy puppy-pile since, grinning like a besotted dork for almost an hour.

The only sad part was that such a cute display was missing Sandy. The dark-haired little girl was cuddled in her daddy’s arms, blinking sleepily and not entirely aware, as her parents slowly departed, saying their goodbyes. Jared knew that Sandy, like Jensen, had to get used to certain changes or people. She was used to being given leeway given her 'youngest' status as a baby and not sharing Jared (or Jeff’s) attention in particular; she was reacting in the only way she knew how when confronted with Jensen – by ignoring or shoving him away.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, followed by, ‘‘Hey, Jay.’’

It was Alona, Sandy’s mommy. Jared stood up, pulling her into a hug. ‘‘Hey, you three off home?’’

‘‘Yeah, Milo and I are hoping for an early night,’’ Alona gave him a squeeze before pulling back. ‘‘Now that Jensen’s a little settled, we hope to see you all _a lot_ sooner.’’

Jared nodded, understanding the gentle hint. He and Jeff had felt a touch guilty over being busy with Jensen. Their Little nieces and nephews hadn’t fully understood their absence during such a time, Sandy even more so.

‘‘We’ll plan a playdate sometime, just Sandy ‘n’ Jensey,’’ Jared offered, hopeful. ‘‘It might be good for them.’’

Alona looked pleased at the suggestion. She adjusted the diaper bag slung over her shoulder and finished her goodbyes by hugging Sam and the others. Jared sat back down, waving to Milo, Alona and an barely awake Sandy as they were led through the house by Jeff. He sighed, grabbing his beer and taking a swig –

‘‘Playdate my ass,’’ Jim scoffed, ‘‘That Lil’ lady will torment our boy.’’

– only to inhale his drink the wrong way, and sputter. ‘‘Christ, Jim!’’

The surrounding adults were stifling their laughter in a bid to not wake any Little Ones. Mike and Sam, in particular, were openly choking back loud guffaws at Jim’s passing comment. Jared scowled at the grey-grizzled man, hitting himself briefly on the chest to clear his airways.

‘‘Aw, man,’’ Mike chuckled. ‘‘He’s gotta point there, Jay. Sandy is _not_ a fan of the new baby.’’

Jared sighed. ‘‘It’s not that bad. She’s just…adjusting.’’

‘‘You sound like Milo,’’ Sam, blunt as ever, said. ‘‘We all know he’s a little blind over how Sandy can be, but you’re not.’’

‘‘She’s a good girl – ’’ Jared began, defensive.

‘‘And she’s a little monster,’’ Misha piped up, interjecting him. ‘‘Like all of our Littles, they have their good and bad moments.’’

Vicki agreed with her husband, adding, ‘‘Even Chris and Steve don’t get along all the time, and they are brothers. A little competition or jealously is natural, Jared. It fades and reappears over time but shouldn’t stay for too long.’’

Jared conceded with that point with half a nod. It was so true.

‘‘Spoken like a true therapist,’’ Tom smirked, tipping his glass towards Vicki.

‘‘Either way,’’ Sam nudged Jared’s elbow, ‘‘Don’t worry about it.’’

‘‘Yeah,’’ Mike mimicked, teasing, ‘‘Don’t worry about it.’’

Jared threw a carrot stick him, hitting him on the shoulder. ‘‘Quit it.’’

‘‘I’m jus’ glad I aint gonna be ‘round for that playdate madness,’’ Jim huffed with a half-smile. ‘‘Hell, let’s hope Sandy don’t cause too much harm when you lot are away next month.’’

‘‘It’ll be fine…’’ Jared muttered automatically, only to pause once Jim’s words caught up with his mind. Wait. _What?_ He and Jeff weren’t going away anywhere. In fact –

‘‘Told you they’d forget,’’ Tom interrupted Jared’s thoughts. He was smiling with a softness of understanding upon elaborating. ‘‘Caramel Bay, Jared. Our group’s annual summer vacation at the beach house?’’

‘‘Oh,’’ Jared blinked. ‘‘That’s – that’s next month?’’

‘‘Yup,’’ Misha grinned. ‘‘Mid-August, same time as always. Vicki asked her parents to re-book for us like usual.’’

Wow, Jared inwardly reeled. That was less than three weeks away. Time had truly flown by.

‘‘Becoming a parent is hard, isn’t it?’’ Sam said, her hand affectionately patting Jared’s face.  

He wanted to glare at her, but ended up nodding in agreement.

 

* * *

 

Jensen’s a little grumpy over the fact he fell asleep, huddled and cuddled within an inch of his life. He hadn’t planned to doze off, just close his eyes. Rest a little while until Chris and Steve lost interest. But, no. He must’ve fallen asleep because he’s waking up when being lifted by a familiar set of hands. It’s Papa holding him; Jensen knows this upon inhaling the scent of sandalwood and feeling the work-roughened texture of the large hand cupping the back of his head.

Snuffling, Jensen blinks blearily. He’s looking over Jeff’s shoulder as the man moves across the deck, eyeing the sun’s far lower position and orange glow. It looks like everyone has gone home, and that’s good. Company is fun for a while but it is nice to just have his daddies all to himself. Jensen closes his eyes, happily rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of Papa’s shirt.

‘‘My sunshine is so sleepy,’’ Papa rumbles, the vibrations running through Jensen’s body.

‘‘Un,’’ Jensen grunts an agreement. It’s too much effort to nod.

A press of lips accompanied by the prickle of facial hair brushes against his cheek. ‘‘C’mon, fella,’’ Papa nuzzles him, ‘‘Open those eyes. A quick dinner and a bath are in order. Then you can go to beddy-byes.’’

‘‘‘eddy-‘eyes now,’’ Jensen says, keeping his eyes closed.

‘‘Runnin’ around has really tuckered you out, hasn't it?’’

‘‘Nuh-uh.’’

His grumpy, huffed reply makes Jeff chuckle kiss his cheek again. He is peeled away from the warm firmness of his papa’s body, instantly making him whine at the loss. Jeff says something, shushing his upset, and Jensen knows _why_ the moment he is being gently deposited on a familiar, padded and plastic-like surface. A diaper change.

Jensen cracks open his eyes, frowning up at the high ceiling of the living room. He wiggles a little, suddenly aware of the heavy, cold dampness surrounding his crotch and the crinkly feel of the changing pad he’s been plonked on. Once upon a time, Jensen would’ve been disgusted and horrified at having pissed himself without knowing. Now, however, it just kind of happens, just like bowel movements. He doesn’t realize he had gone in his diaper until discomfort or a particular sensation happens, often or not too preoccupied with playing, eating or genuinely enjoying himself with Daddy and Papa.

‘‘There’s m’brave boy,’’ Daddy croons at him, his hands expertly snapping open the buttons located on the crotch of Jensen’s short-sleeved bodysuit. ‘‘C’mon, now, wake up,’’ is the continued chatter ‘‘or you’ll be unable to sleep tonight, sweetheart. We’ve got an early start tomorrow with Meg goin’ back home.  We’re all going to have breakfast out together before we drop her off at the airport, and you and I have got to keep your Daddy from being a soppy idiot and crying...’’

Jensen never wants to see Daddy (or Papa) cry. He might be blinking heavily, but he nods with firm determination. Tomorrow’s task shall run smoothly and –

‘‘You’ll all be fine,’’ a distinctively feminine voice says.

Eyes popped fully open, Jensen whirls his head towards the unexpected guest – no, _guests_. Katie (the giver of ice cream treats!) and Genevieve are sprawled on the couch, the former having just spoken. Jensen makes a strangled noise behind his pacifier upon noting that they can see _everything_. Jensen’s silent through being mortified at being currently bare below the waist in the _living room_ , getting hoisted up by the ankles for a thorough cleaning, courtesy of his Papa’s ginormous hands.

Oh, _hell no_. That’s sneaky. Sneakier than Jensen was when swiping cookies yesterday. Sneaky and unfair! Both his daddies had been good at keeping his privacy with Meg in the house. Running around in a diaper was one thing, but they knew he nearly blushed himself into heart failure at the mere thought of others seeing him buck-naked!

Clearly, Jensen supposed with a cringe, Papa had forgotten. Or, given Danni parading about naked today, presumed Jensen wouldn’t mind.

‘‘Stay still, sunshine,’’ Papa-the-meanie says, ignoring Jensen’s flailing. ‘‘Almost done.’’

The worst part of it all is when Jeff ignored Jensen’s continued squirming to talk to Katie and Gen. The three of them are acting like Jensen’s bare state and publicly piss-soaked diaper is nothing. They’re talking about Megan, saying something along the lines of how nice it was to see her again and that they’d miss her. Jensen’s gnawing on his pacifier, eyes scrunched shut as he tries to listen over the roar of his own heartbeat.

‘‘Meg pointed out what was goin’ wrong with Gen’s shitty car,’’ Katie casually informed.

Jeff laughed a little. ‘‘ Baby’s here, Kate.’’

‘‘Ah, shi– _crap_. Sorry.’’

‘‘My car isn’t… ’’ Genevieve sulked, only to pause, briefly. ‘‘My car isn’t bad. It’s a good run-around to get me to places.’’

Katie scoffed, muttering something that earned her a whack from Gen. Jensen peeked open his eyes at the obvious noise of a hand hitting skin accompanied by Katie’s yowl. Papa’s sprinkling baby powder over Jensen’s nether regions when the trio begin talking about Daddy and Meg – something about them being in the kitchen, getting dinner ready for them and their remaining, two guests. Jensen nudges his heel against Jeff’s knee, silently urging his papa to _hurry up_ , so he can flee the scene of his embarrassment.

Honestly, Jensen’s face feels so hot that his face must be melting.

‘‘…and she’s speaking to Jay about helping her find a community college back home for motor engineering,’’ Katie finishes saying.

Gen adds her own two cents in. ‘‘Meg said she enjoyed the idea of working for cars, but felt unsure. Think it's due to bein' a girl, but I told her I've met a few lady mechanics.’’

‘‘That's true,'' Katie smirked. ‘‘You have visited most of California's mechanics for cheap quotes to fix that crap car.''

‘‘Oh, shut up. Or you can find another ride home.''

The snippet of conversation sails right over Jensen’s head; he only notices them because Papa makes an intrigued noise. They carry on chatting while Jeff tries to brighten Jensen’s mood, lightly tickling Jensen’s sides while smoothing the tabs of his new diaper down. Jensen bats those hands away, ignoring the amused glint in Papa’s chocolate-brown eyes. After all, now that Jensen has a fresh diaper snugly strapped into place, covering his nakey-ness, he can _finally_ breathe.

He doesn’t even wait for Papa to refasten the crotch-snaps of his sleeveless bodysuit or offer to slip Jensen back into his shorts. No, Jensen is just happen to have his downstairs covered back up when in other’s company. So happy, in fact, that he rolls over, clambering up onto his hands and knees, to snag Honey and speedily toddle off. He doesn’t get far… Katie blocks his way with one of her legs to reach over and lightly chuck Jensen under the chin.

‘‘Don’t be so grumpy, sweet thing,’’ she teases. ‘‘We’ve seen it all before.’’

Jensen reacts immediately, taking himself somewhat by surprise. He jabs his index finger at her, flustered yet indignant, and pointedly tells her off with a sharp, ‘‘No!’’

They – the adults, that is – are taken by surprise. Jeff recovers first, letting out a deep laugh that has Genevieve joining in on with a cackle. It makes Jensen preen, just a little, on the inside that they are laughing at Katie’s baffled expression, not him. Plus, his Papa isn’t mad at his sulky response to a family-friend, and that’s enough for Jensen to happily plug his binky into his mouth and escape to seek comfort from Daddy.

 

* * *

 

‘‘Are you sure you’ve got everything you need?’’

Jared’s entirely aware this is the millionth time he’s asked his baby sister this, but he can’t help but check. Again. The look Meg shoots him from across the diner’s table is dry, yet tinged with fond exasperation. Jared grins sheepishly back, barely flinching when Jeff’s shoe knocks against his shin in a secretive, under-the-table reprimand.

‘‘She damn well best have everything,’’ Jeff grumbles, his annoyed tone contradicted by his smirk. ‘‘It took us an over an hour to get here in the first place... and her flight’s at one.’’

‘‘I wasn’t talkin’ to you,’’ Jared says to his husband, teasing.

‘‘Yeah, well, too bad, babe. I – _ow!_ Jay!’’

Lightly jabbing Jeff’s elbow with a fork might not be the most mature response, but it is well worth it. Jared’s still grinning at the startled look on Jeff’s face when Meg rolls her eyes at them both, muttering something about being childish. He ignores the pair of them to nab a napkin from the dispenser on their table, dampening it with his tongue, to swipe at the sticky mess of syrup dominating the majority of Jensen’s face.

‘‘N-Noh!’’ Jensen grumps, irritated at being disturbed and trying to dodge Jared’s hand.

‘‘Ah-ah, none of that,’’ Jared pacified.

He managed to get most of the syrup and pancake crumbs removed – at least, just enough to not cause further damage, there was only so much mess Jensen’s bib could contain until it seeped through onto his clothing. Still, Jared was certain Jeff had been in charge of to feeding their baby boy, not decorating him. He had a feeling most of this mess was down to Jensen, though. Their Little had been preoccupied with watching people the moment they entered the small diner they found a stone’s throw away from Burbank’s Bob Hope airport.

Jensen’s been swerving forkfuls of syrup-drowned pancakes, uncharacteristically avoiding food to curiously peer around the relatively busy diner. It takes a few moments, but then Jared gets understands why: Jensen hasn’t eaten out with them before. Sure, they had a few snacks when feeding the ducks by Jeff’s work in Belhaven, but he and Jeff hadn’t taken Jensen to a restaurant (or, in this case, diner) before. The tiny, Modified male was probably a mix of cautious and curious given his overly private and shy ways. Being in a busy city diner and surrounded by loud patrons was an entirely new experience for his and Jeff’s baby boy.

In spite of that being the case, Jared noticed that Jensen was craning his neck, determined to watch _something_ a few tables over. He was no longer flitting his green eyes about, watching everything and everyone, as he idly sucked on a syrup-sticky plastic spoon. No, if Jared followed his son’s line of attention, he could see exactly what captured Jensen’s attention.

Well, _who_. Not what.

A few feet away there was, like many other customers, a family enjoying bunch. Two adults, presumed mom and dad, and two youngsters. Jared guessed that Jensen was merely being inquisitive upon seeing another family, until mom stopped fussing with the youngest in the highchair to return to her seat. With his view no longer blocked, Jared spotted who had garnered Jensen’s intense attention.

‘‘Is that baby just like my Jensey?’’ Jared asked, playfully thumbing Jensen’s nose. ‘‘A Little One like you, hm?’’

‘‘Uh- _unnn_ ,’’ Jensen replied nonsensically around his spoon, barely looking away.

Jared copied his baby boy, only a little more subtly. He joined in watching, idly aware of Meg and Jeff sparking up conversation as he watched the family of four a little ways away. Jared had thought the two youngsters had been natural children until his view was no longer obscured and, then, he spotted the tell-tale features of a Modified adult-baby within the highchair. The older kid, a frizzy-haired girl, was definitely a natural child, probably nearing the age of ten, and happily interacting with her Modified, baby brother.

It gave Jared hope upon noticing how the group of strangers spoke _to_ the Little One and _not_ at him. Jared could remember how Jensen was treated by the staff and owner at Burbank’s A.B Adoption Agency – like some sort of plaything, or commodity. There was something downright refreshing upon knowing that not every adult baby that had been forcefully Modified by similar agencies would be treated as a sub-human, or a living doll, to tote around.

Sure, Jared knew that folk like him, Jeff and their friends were in the minority of consensual adoption regarding Little Ones and other views, but it was nice to see their small group weren’t alone. Even if it was just _one_ more family out there showing enough respect and care, it was one more than there used to be. Jared had to take a quick sip of his orange juice to clear the sudden lump in his throat… he was just emotional with Meg going, that was all.

‘‘‘addy?’’ a sticky little hand brushed his arm. ‘‘Dah-Daddy?’’

‘‘Yes, sweetpea?’’ Jared was happy to note his voice didn’t croak.

Jensen jabbed his spoon towards the other family’s Modified babe. ‘‘‘ucky!’’

Oh. Jared felt his heart melt. ‘‘Yeah, baby boy,’’ he nodded, ‘‘he’s lucky, too.’’

 

* * *

 

In the end, Jared didn’t cry upon sending Megan off home.

There was some seriously big, glassy hazel eyes and a lot of blinking, but no sobs or tears when waving Meg off at the airport. Jeff was somewhat surprised, knowing how soppy his husband could get, but he was more surprised at his own reaction. He felt sad. Sadder than what was necessary, that is. After all, they’d be seeing Megan and the rest of the Padalecki clan at Christmas and, maybe, Jensen’s first birthday with them.

Still, Jeff had to cough a few times after giving Megan a bear hug. His chest got a little too tight for comfort when she said thanks, even going so far as to state that she’d be ‘lost’ without him and Jared. She pecked him on the cheek, announcing that he was her favourite brother-in-law (he was her only brother-in-law!) before focusing on giving goodbyes to Jensen.

By the time she swanned off, Jeff was on the receiving end of his husband’s all-knowing smile.

‘‘Always makes me laugh how all our friends ‘n’ family think _I’m_ the emotional one,’’ Jared sounds so smug.

Jeff gives a half-hearted scowl. ‘‘You are.’’

‘‘Uh-huh,’’ his husband _beams_ , practically dancing closer. ‘‘Typical Jeff: rough and tough on the outside – ’’ Jared sings, poking Jeff’s stomach ‘‘ – and super soft in the middle!’’

Okay, it’s hard for Jeff to pretend to take offense to that when Jared looks so happy with teasing him. That, and Jensen finds his daddy’s antics hilarious enough to giggle behind his pacifier. Biting the inside of his cheek, Jeff holds back a smile and hoists Jensen higher on his hip, shooting Jared a poor attempt of an unimpressed expression.

‘‘You calling me fat, babe?’’ Jeff’s voice fails at being monotone. He chuckles at the last word.

Jared lets out a laugh before pressing a kiss to Jeff’s unshaven cheek. The quick peck is swiftly followed by peppering Jensen’s face with several kisses, until their boy bashfully hides his face behind his toy rabbit. Jeff’s still sniggering as they make their leave, heading towards the airport's main exit; one arm full of Jensen’s light weight, and the other hand occupied by Jared’s own.

‘‘What d’you say about some retail therapy?’’ Jeff ponders out loud.  ‘‘We’re in the city, might as well make a day of it.’’

Jared gains an instant spring in his step, excitement evident. ‘‘Now that sounds like a plan! You in, Jensey?’’

The Modified Little in question doesn’t seem to mind, far more interested in wriggling under Jeff’s chin, getting comfy, as they walk. Jensen’s probably tired; his little fella might’ve slept during the drive into the city but he was showing all the signs of wanting a post-brunch snooze. Jeff squeezes his husband’s hand, offering a slight change in plans.

‘‘Let’s find a Mall, grab the stroller from the trunk, and take it from there.’’

The floppy-haired Padalecki gives a nod in agreement. At least, until he catches Jeff’s eye. ‘‘We could take Jensen to a playground?’’ Jared _wheedles_. ‘‘He hasn’t been to one yet. Or, go check out that specialized Little One store that I saw advertised. They only opened three in our state, one being here in Burbank. If not, Jensen hasn’t been to any indoor soft-play areas, we could – ’’

‘‘We could,’’ Jeff quickly interrupts his eager husband, ‘‘Just go to the mall. We’ve got plenty of time do to that, and more, some other day, babe.’’

‘‘Ah, yeah,’’ Jared ducks his head while speaking. ‘‘I got carried away. So, trip to the mall? We’ve gotta grab some stuff for ourselves and Jensen for when we go away.’’

‘‘Yeah…’’ Jeff smiles, indulgent and content.

There are _loads_ of activities and experiences that Jensen has yet to experience. Just like Jared, he can’t wait for everything the future holds involving their Lil’ man. Be it getting Jensen finally comfortable around their oddball of a created family, to the big events of birthdays and vacations away. There is still _so much_ to do, and they have all the time in the world to discover and experience aspects with their bright-eyed baby boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DO. NOT. FRET:** that is not the end on this mushy Lil' verse.
> 
> I promised the Original Prompter a follow-up of a vacation (wee ones off to some fun in the sun). So, the first chapter of that’ll be up come Sunday evening. I also promised a few commenters a few shorts such as:  
> play date with Sandy, first Halloween/Christmas/Birthday, and the trials and tribulations of Jeff and Jared suffering from the typical parental woes: sex interrupted. 
> 
> Any other drabbles/one-shots/ect for this ‘verse, ask away. I’ll snag a few that’ll be fun to deliver and write them up.
> 
> I’ll probably be completing those listed above and a few scenarios put forth by you commenters as a **HUGE THANKS TO YOU ALL** while finishing/posting belated (and kinkmeme/nonnie requested) infantilism works from other fandoms – Teen Wolf, Marvel..ect – so, don’t expect them churned out within the week. Lord knows my other requests outside of this ‘verse have been begging for uploads/updates. 
> 
> It’s been a pleasure so far all. Thank you & (until soon) Take care.


End file.
